Grasping a Chance
by Gatekat
Summary: Knights of Light, Jazz/Prowl When an aimless young saboteur and a gifted but unhappy tactician crash land on a world far from home, their suddenly new lack of choices may be the best thing that has ever happened to them.
1. An Unexpected Opportunity

Fandom: Transformers IDW, Knights of Light  
Author: gatekat, Starsheild on LJ  
Pairings: Jazz/Prowl (eventually)  
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)  
Codes: AU, Sticky, MechPreg (eventually), Sparklings (eventually)  
Summary: When an aimless young saboteur and a gifted but unhappy tactician crash land on a world far from home, their suddenly new lack of choices may be the best thing that has ever happened to them.  
Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics dot livejournal dot com/290 dot html) We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
::text:: comm chatter  
~text~ hardline/bond chatter

It is recommended that you read this on Ao3 if you can. I update everything over there much more often, and it gets the complete stories, not the smut-stripped ones that show up here.  
archiveofourown dot org/works/631313

**Grasping a Chance 1: An Unexpected Opportunity**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

::Wing, meet up with Thorn and investigate the disturbance in tunnel 19, between marker 93 and 97,:: the young Knight was pinged by comms.

::Be at the main gate in a klik,:: Thorn's voice responded to them both.

The white jet paused in what he was doing to take the message. ::I'll be right there,:: he replied, looking at what he had been doing, then hurried to put his supplies away before taking off and flying to the main city gates. ::What's going on?::

::Seismic disturbance,:: Dart, the Knight in comms, reported. ::From the readings the ceiling caved in. From the last report, it would not do that without a significant impact from above.::

::Something crashed into the tunnels?:: Wing cycled his optics, catching sight of Thorn nearing the gates and angling to catch up with the long black jet that was his opposite in so many ways. He was short and compact for an airframe, often mistaken for a grounder at a glance, while Thorn was tall and lean and never mistaken for anything other than what he was. Wing was playful and impulsive while Thorn was quite and serious. Wing was impossible to miss entering a room, Thorn almost made it a matter of pride to be able to walk in in plain sight and not be noticed. Wing was physical, always _moving_, while Thorn could sit still reading for dozens of joors at a time.

Yet they were also good friends and occasional lovers, finding a balance for themselves in the other.

::That's my guess,:: Dart said. ::What it is you need to find out.::

::Gotcha. We'll comm back when we figure out what it was,:: Wing replied, darting over to orbit Thorn a couple of times.

The long black jet tipped his wings in greeting. ::Maybe we'll be fortunate and it will be mineral heavy.::

::You just jinxed us,:: Wing retorted playfully, sidling over to playfully swat his wingtip against Thorn's. ::Because you just said that it'll be a chunk of useless debris to be shoved out of the way and left there.::

::That will suit me as well,:: Thorn teased back, the humorous inflections in his glyphs extremely subtle as they transformed and landed at the tunnel entrance and began walking. "Have I heard correctly that you have managed to avoid penance and penalty for a full metacycle?"

"I have indeed." Wing fluffed armor and wings, pleased with himself. "It wasn't easy, that I'll admit, but I managed it, much to carrier's surprise."

"And hidden delight, no doubt," Thorn chuckled softly as the tunnel darkened, now lit only by their optics, one set golden, the other deep red. "I'm sure Axe was there with a smirk and an 'I told you so' at some point that orn."

"Most likely," the white mech agreed cheerfully. He peered down the tunnel. This was not one of the ones he used when sneaking to the surface, so he wasn't in this area that often.

They walked in general silence to marker 93 and stopped, their optics sweeping over the debris.

"So much for a meteor," Thorn murmured as he moved forward carefully to examine the mangled collection of metal, glass, plastic and wires strewn about the floor and the large object they came from. ::I'm getting two spark readings.::

::On my way,:: Redline responded as Dart relayed the message to various Knights.

::Is there surface access to the ship?:: Axe asked.

Wing bobbed back and forth, looking a bit birdlike as he eyed the pile of wreckage. Finally, the small jet skittered up the side that was least likely to crumple under him. ::Looks like it buried itself in pretty deep. Can't tell from here if there's surface access.::

::Marwir is picking me up. I'll find out,:: Demeter spoke up on the general channel.

::Atl, Dive, Shogun. Join me at the site,:: Axe ordered calmly.

::What readings can you get on the survivors?:: Redline demanded.

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the named mecha. Wing climbed carefully over the wreckage, scanning the two life-signs within. ::They're badly damaged, from what my scanners are saying. Won't be able to tell exactly how bad till they're out of this slag pile, but it's going to be bad.::

::Understood,:: Redline replied.

::Any clue what kind of ship it was?:: Demeter asked. ::At least the size class.::

::It doesn't appear to be very big. Big enough for two mecha, maybe a couple more.:: Wing frowned at the wrecked ship, trying to puzzle out what class it had been. One audial fin twitched at the sound of other mecha approaching.

He recognized the light step of Marwir and the heavy thud of Redline as the first to arrive. Demeter, in her turbofox alt, was off Marwir's shoulder and set to work finding out if the ship could be lifted easily or if another option was better.

"What a mess," Redline muttered as he set to work moving and cutting the ship apart. A task that went quickly when the others arrived. Eight Knights, three of them larger than average, made for an efficient rescue crew.

::I found one,:: Demeter's comm didn't interrupt anyone's movements, though they all paid attention. ::I'm amazed he's still alive. Mid-sized grounder frame, I think. Not a lot left of it. Out cold, but his spark's still pulsing.::

The large red Knight designated Shogun let out a grunt as he grabbed hold of a hull plate and pulled. His hydraulics whined in protest as he peeled the crumpled metal slowly away from the wrecked frame, opening the gap wider. Wing eased over to peer in through the hole, wincing at the amount of damage. "Primus... How did he ever manage to survive?"

"Just get him out as soon as you can," Redline insisted.

"Let me," Marwir interrupted as she put a hand on Wing's arm and worked to get her small frame into the gap. "I've handled critically injured mecha before."

::Got the other one. Used to be Praxian. I think. There's part of a doorwing still attached and a red chevron,:: Demeter called out from deeper in the ship. ::He's got stronger vitals. Not by much, though.::

The young jet moved out of the way so Marwir could get in. He'd been created after the exodus from Cybertron, and major accidents were rare in New Crystal City, so he had practically no real experience with severe injuries, and had the sense to let those who did do their thing. Hanging back and helping move smaller pieces of debris out of the way, he winced as the wounded mecha were carefully extracted, revealing the full extent of the damage.

One had lost both legs and one arm, the other crushed along with his pelvic girdle, half his chest and part of his face was sheered off. The only distinctive features that remained were the corner of what had once been a bright blue visor and stubby black sensor horns. By the time Redline had stabilized him enough for transport his companion had been extracted. He was in a little better shape, having been further back in the craft, but not by a lot. His entire left side had been crushed beyond recognition, his right side burned horribly but still largely intact. Wing couldn't imagine surviving such injuries, but as he took in the reactions of those who knew such things he realized that it was grim, but not the worst any of them had witnessed with survivors.

Marwir was at his side, a hand on his shoulder and her field extended, offering support if he needed it.

Wing had never seen someone so badly injured before. White armor clamped tight to his frame, his wings trembling against his back. He leaned closer to Marwir, needing the contact.

"They've survived this far, their odds are better than it looks," she murmured reassuringly to her former student.

"I'll take your word for that," Wing murmured back, voice unsteady. "That looks... really bad."

"It is," Axe came over to put a hand on his creation's shoulder. Redline sent the first rescue off with Shogun to the medial bay while he worked to stabilize the second for transport. "It is _very_ bad. As long as they are not a bonded pair, at least one should survive. I've seen mecha recover from worse. So long as the spark chamber is undamaged, the rest can be rebuilt."

The white jet pressed himself against black armor. "I've never seen anyone hurt that badly. Will they really recover?"

"We will do all we can," Axe promised softly, rubbing a soothing hand down Wing's back. "For now, all we can do is give Redline space, supplies and see what we can discover about them in the shuttle."

Wing nodded reluctantly. He was still shaken; that would take some time, and later some cuddling with his creators, to work off. "What do you want me to do?"

We need to clean as much as we can down here, then dig it out from above. If you find anything that hints at who or what they are, say so," Axe instructed as he let go. "Focusing on work will make time go more smoothly."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

He booted up slowly, groggy with medial overrides that kept his memory files and most databases off line while his frame went through the aggravatingly slow process of doing a deep code and physical check of each and every system. Vaguely, he was sure he should know why. This wasn't an unknown sensation. It carried the taste of unpleasantness and aching and boredom, though he couldn't remember why yet.

The physical unpleasantness of his frame bloomed across his awareness a moment later, followed by a lessening of the foggy thoughts as processors booted and protocols loaded.

A low groan escaped his vocalizer.

"Be happy you're feeling all this," a deep rumble came from his right. It was a voice he knew instantly he had never heard before. "Can you pull up your designation?"

Instead of answering he finished booting, waiting until his memory logs had been correlated and his last memories accessed.

He'd been on a shuttle with one of the SpecOps bots, a relatively new recruit, though he'd survived enough missions to no longer be a rookie. Jazz. The pilot was Jazz. Not a mech he'd seen more than a few times before, always in a briefing. Not a mech he _wanted_ to see outside of a brief.

What happened after the launch from Cybertron he could not recall.

Reluctantly he booted his optics and looked towards the speaker. Mid-sized, dark yellow-orange optics, white and red with a medic's cross on his chestplate. No faction insignia to be seen. Transponder answered Redline, Knight of Light.

"I am Prowl," he said carefully, trying to pull up anything on the Knights of Light he had and found nothing.

The medic grunted softly, eying the monitors still hooked up to Prowl's frame. "Can you tell me what happened? How you ended up here?"

"I was in a shuttle to Cybertron's larger moon," Prowl recalled what he could. "Everything I have in memory indicates an uneventful journey, though we had not yet cleared Cybertron's atmosphere."

"You must have had one Pit of a problem, to have ended up this far from Cybertron." Redline frowned at the monitors. "Try not to move too much. You underwent a major rebuild, and your systems will be a time adjusting."

"I gathered as much from my HUD notice list," Prowl said evenly. "I will comply."

The white and red mech grunted. "Finally, a mech with some sense." He tapped one of the displays, scanned the results, then disconnected a couple of the monitors attached to Prowl.

"Where is here?" Prowl asked politely, remaining compliantly still with his field pulled in tightly.

"A very long way from Cybertron," Redline responded, deliberately vague. "More than that is for my superiors to say."

"I understand," Prowl internally listed himself as a POW. "Did the pilot survive?"

"He did survive. His injuries were worse than yours, but he survived and will recover. He has not yet regained consciousness, though," Redline replied after a moment, remotely checking on the other patient's status. "What is his designation?"

"Jazz," he responded, quietly hoping that the other mech wouldn't object. "What will be done with us?"

"That is up to my superiors. One of them will be along to speak with you once I decide you're coherent enough." This time the medic didn't look up from his monitors.

"Understood." Prowl checked his comms, noted that they were repaired but with a medical block on them, and took it to mean he was being isolated, both from people and the info-nets of the area. He could hack the block, and began by poking at it to see how it would respond to a reasonable challenge. While the block stayed put, the medic also didn't tell him to stop. Breaking it would take at least an orn, possibly longer, but he had little else to occupy himself with for the time being.

The medic's yellow-orange optics regarded Prowl for a klik before returning to the monitors, observing the readings. For about a half breem there was silence, then the sound of heavy pedefalls, the steps of a very big mech, became audible.

Prowl remained still, as compliant as any patient Redline had ever had, only turning his helm slightly so he could look at the door when it opened. He forced himself to even out his stalled vents, but he had no doubt that shocked recognition flashed across his face and doorwings before he controlled it. If _this_ mecha was reentering the political scene, the Prime was in trouble, and so was Megatron.

Red optics narrowed as the massive blue, white, and black triple changer entered the room Prowl was being kept in. The giant's expression was otherwise impassive as he stalked forward, looming over the berth.

"You recognize me," the giant rumbled. It wasn't a question.

"Anyone who reads military history would, General Dai Atlas," Prowl said respectfully. He didn't even realize he was displaying submission in his optics and wings, such as he could laying flat on his back in a medical berth. He could hear it in his vocalizations though, and he knew he couldn't conceal that he was afraid of this mecha.

"I gave up that rank long ago," Dai Atlas informed the smaller mech. "Long before I left Cybertron with the Circle and as many noncombatants as would follow us." He scrutinized Prowl for a long moment. "Why did you come here?"

"It was not intentional," Prowl answered simply as he amended the file on Dai Atlas. "We were traveling to the greater moon of Cybertron."

Red optics narrowed to slits. Above his helm, the yellow gem of Dai Atlas' Great Sword flared. "Then how did you end up _here_? It took us many thousands of vorns to find this world, far from Cybertron, far enough away that the war could not reach us."

"I do not know," Prowl said honestly, forcing his field outward to give the giant a chance to teek the truth of his words. "I do not even know what happened that diverted our course from the moon."

Dai Atlas' gaze shifted to Redline, who nodded. "His short-term memory banks were damaged in the crash, and the data was erased. Not unexpected considering the extent of the damage he suffered."

That got a growl from the blue and white giant before his gaze shifted back to Prowl. "We cannot risk the war finding us. You and your companion cannot be permitted to leave the city."

Prowl's mouth opened in shock so deep it nearly crashed his processors even as his battle computer, thankfully spared, went to work on that bit of intel. "Why ... what is our fate, then?" he almost managed to stabilize his voice.

Long, wide wings flared out. "For the moment, you will be under the guard of the Knights. Perhaps, in time, you will become a citizen of our city."

Prowl's processors spun as he worked to assess that. Nothing in his existence prepared him for such a task. He didn't even know where to begin, so that was where he focused. "What is expected of me to become a citizen?"

"You will give up your weapons and your battle mods," Dai Atlas informed him firmly. "Residents of New Crystal City do not carry arms. Only Knights carry weapons, and then only blades, in defense of city and citizens. You will be expected to work, like all citizens, for your livelihood."

Prowl choked on the first part. Give up his tac-net? He'd been _sparked_ to support it.

"Purely battle mods," Redline spoke up at the stricken expression Prowl was wearing. "That tactical system has uses outside battle."

He sagged in relief, his armor clicking faintly as systems powered down that he hadn't even realize he'd taken to battle readiness.

Dai Atlas rumbled softly. "One of my Knights will be assigned to keep an optic on you until it is decided that you are ready to integrate into our society, once your battle mods and weapons have been removed."

"I understand," Prowl said quietly. "Will I be allowed to speak with Jazz once he wakes?"

"You will be permitted to speak with him once he regains consciousness. But you will both be guarded by different Knights and housed separately." The Knight leader gazed at Prowl for a long moment. "We will speak again."

Prowl nodded, still largely in shock but rapidly prioritizing his needs as the giant left.

Redline watched Dai Atlas go, then looked back to Prowl. He looked over the monitors again, staying back to give Prowl a chance to digest at least some of those revelations. The Praxian's world had been turned on its audial; adapting would not be easy.

"Redline, what do I need to do to gain access to the public datanet?" Prowl asked, his voice once more level, nearly monotone.

"Once you are fully coherent and a Knight has been assigned to you, you will be given limited access to the datanet," the medic answered, looking up. "It will be monitored, of course. Full access might take a while."

"I expected such," Prowl murmured and tried to relax on the berth to give his aching frame time to adjust to the massive number of repairs. "My processors are functioning at 68.3% of peek efficiency. I am coherent as I become."

"You still need time to heal. The damage was severe; we were amazed that either of you survived that crash." Redline stepped out of view for a klik, reappearing with an energon cube in his hands. From the color, it was heavily impregnated with minerals needed for the new parts to integrate and all the nanoscale repairs to finish. "Your frame will be aching for at least a couple of orns."

"I understand," Prowl carefully lifted his helm enough to drink, grateful that these Neutrals had the energon and supplies to spare. "I have been rebuilt before. It is never pleasant."

Redline stepped closer, holding the energon cube for him in case Prowl was not yet steady enough to do so. "Then the list of don'ts as long as your arm should be familiar to you."

"They are, sir," Prowl said between sips, careful not to drink too much in case new systems rebelled at the thick energon. "Though they largely sum up to 'remain still, relax and recharge until I say otherwise' which was generally about when I stopped aching."

"Sounds about right," Redline confirmed, watching with critical optics as Prowl drank.

"I will heal better in stage one medical stasis," Prowl said after he finished the cube. "It's the only way to safely shut my tac-net down."

Redline turned to make a note on a datachart, revealing a long, intricate sword on his back, similar to the one Dai Atlas had been carrying, though the gem was a different color. "Good to know. I'll put you into stasis, then, until you are more fully healed." Putting down the datachart, he walked over to the berth, smoothly shutting Prowl down into stasis.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Slow boot override medical codes.

Even though Jazz had only spent a short time in Spec Ops so far, he had already acquired the division's distaste for them. They interfered with everything that his system was screaming was important. Being ready and alert, able to react in a moments notice.

Right now they were making his processor twitch, distracting him from the series of green light notices as each system came online without a hitch. There was a marred line of memory code that was bothering him, something that had gone wrong.

Terribly wrong, he realized as he started looking at the list of damages and repairs.

Finally his optics cycled on, and in a moment of comfort he realized that his visor still shielded his optics as he looked around the unfamiliar room.

"Good, you are finally awake," a deep, unfamiliar voice rumbled with the cadence and sub-harmonics of a seasoned medic. "Do you remember your designation?"

"Maybe." The mech on the medical berth winced as he forced his neck to turn in the direction of the voice.

"I would like to call you something other than 'patient.' My designation is Redline," he said with strained patience. "Your companion called you Jazz. Does that sound about right?"

Companion ... that meant Prowl was alive and functional enough to talk. A small bit of tension faded from Jazz's frame. He had not failed in his assignment, at least. "Yeah. I'm Jazz. He's all right then?"

"Yes. He required repairs almost as extensive as yours," Redline nodded, his deep yellow-orange optics still on the monitors for the most part. "He woke last orn. Any errors?"

"None so far. And I think I've hit the end of the list finally." Jazz said, diverting enough of his attention from studying the new mech and his surroundings to answer the direct question. "So where are we, and when do I get to see him?"

"He will be allowed to visit you when I allow him to get up," Redline said firmly. "After that you will have to arrange meetings through your respective Knights. It's not my place to tell you where or when you are."

"It's mine," a deep rumble snapped Jazz's attention to the opening door and the very large black mech standing beyond it. "It's good to see you functional, Jazz. I am Master of Light Axe of New Crystal City," he introduced himself as he stepped into the room. "You will be here a long time, so relax." He gave a bit of a grin and leaned against a nearby wall so Jazz could easily see him without craning his neck. "How are you feeling?"

"Master of Light of New Crystal City?" Jazz repeated, rolling that around as he took in the large mech. Everything from his massive aerial frame to the blade rising above his shoulder, similar yet different from that of the medic on the other side of the room. If Jazz needed any sort of hint that he was no longer on Cybertron or any of its moons, that was a good place to start.

"Yes," Axe nodded patiently. "You may call me Axe."

"Like a garbage drone picked me up, processed me good, and spit me back out," he finally answered. "Though hopefully I look better than I feel."

"You do," Axe promised. "Physically, you have been completely repaired."

"Caveat," Redline broke in. "You have a fully functional frame. I had next to nothing to work with on what you might have looked like before, so you likely look quite different now."

"What?" Jazz demanded, craning his neck around once more and trying to sit up for a better look at himself. It wasn't so much at the fact the he had changed- he'd been through plenty of cosmetic changes and had never really become attached to any one particular look- as the fact that he needed to know what he looked like when others saw him. He needed to know how to blend in, how to disappear or be the center of attention. He had relearned an entire frame several times, but just because he could did not mean he was looking forward to doing so again. "What did you change?"

Suspicion filled him, and he focused on the large black mech without giving Redline a chance to really answer. "What do you want with me?"

"I don't know what I changed because I don't know what you looked like before," Redline repeated calmly. "I repaired what I could, replaced what I couldn't."

"A few answers for now," Axe relaxed against the wall. "How did you get here?"

A soft growl issued from Jazz as he sorted back through his memories, finding the gaps and trying to determine what had happened. "The last thing I remember is being ordered to shuttle Prowl out to one of the moons. He had some sort of meeting there, and my CO wanted me to have more time flying one of the medium shuttles."

Or at least, that had been the cover story that they had fed everyone. The excuse to get Jazz on the moon.

"What happened after you cleared Cybertron's atmosphere?" Axe asked more pointedly even as Redline gave the black Knight a warning glare.

Jazz searched his memories, not being able to pinpoint anything specific. "An explosion."

His own panic, and not being able to pinpoint how or why. The feeling of being out of control, and not being able to do anything about it.

On the surface he was fine, collected and controlled. Underneath though, his systems started to heat up, preparing to react to something that may or may not happen again.

"How badly do you wish to return to Cybertron and the war?" Axe's voice softened, the modulation that of an uncomfortable question he really didn't want to ask.

That caught Jazz off guard, and for a moment he just stared at the large mech, processing the question. Then he shrugged. "Don't really care. There's nothing there for me."

It was true. The Decepticons had destroyed what little life he'd had. The Autobots had sort of taken him and given him something to do. But he owed nothing to either of them.

The way both the other mechs seemed to sag slightly in relief was ... interesting.

"Good," Axe spoke before Jazz had formatted a full response to their reaction. "Because we can not afford to let you go back. We will do our best to help you find a home here. Every mecha in the city does something productive."

Instead of calming him the response has Jazz bristling again. "Can't afford to let me go back? Where am I? And what sort of 'productive'?"

"You are in New Crystal City, and we will not be dragged into the war we left Cybertron to escape," Axe said with the firmness of one who believed it to his very spark. "We have preserved Cybertron's history, science and much of the culture. We will do what is needed to maintain it." He forced himself to settle and get the rumble from his voice. "Productive. Contributing to society and the needs of the city. There are hundreds of functions to choose from."

The small mech on the berth settled some, but he still watched both of the other mecha in the room warily. "So I am a prisoner."

"Until you are ready to choose to live here, yes," Axe acknowledged with a slight nod. "A Knight will be assigned to you, to keep track of you and to help you adjust. You will go nowhere without him. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Jazz said. Yes, he understood. He understood what was being said.

Axe nodded. "I will answer any questions I can, if you wish to ask."

Blue visor swung from one mecha to the other. "When do I get out of here and meet this new guard?"

"If you integrate all your new components as rapidly as your companion did, two orns," Redline said firmly. "Your companion is likely to be able to visit later tonight."

"As for your guard, he'll drop in as soon as he finishes his duty shift, I expect," Axe made a long-suffering sound. "Wing is entirely too excited to meet you."

"Wing." Jazz repeated, and just nodded. "Fine."

Axe paused, giving him a moment to ask a question, then settled his armor as he pushed off the wall and left.

Redline moved to get a cube of energon thick with additives, but waited for the door to close behind the giant before approaching Jazz. "Prowl chose to finish integrating his repairs in level one medical stasis. You do not have his specialized mods, but I can do that for you, if you prefer it to staring at the ceiling for two orns."

"Nah." Jazz said, taking the energon and studying it before he took a sip. "I'll spend it staring at the ceiling."

The medic nodded and left Jazz to consume his energon and entertain himself for a while. For his part the small mech settled in to integrate everything that he had learned and let his systems settle.

If his chronometer was to be trusted, he had just over two joors of relative peace before the door slid open and a mid-sized white mech with splashes of red and bright golden optics walked in.

Well, _bounded_ might be a more accurate description, especially given the wide, happy grin the mech was wearing.

"I'm _so_ glad you recovered," the white mech said eagerly, honesty all but radiating from him. "When I saw you..." he shuddered. "It was hard to believe anyone could survive with that little of their frame intact."

"If you have before pictures I can tell you if I've been through worse." Jazz replied, helm tilted to the side as he studied the small jet, judging him to be another Knight if the blade on his back was any indication. "You would be Wing, I'm guessing?"

"Oh, yes, that's me," Wing beamed, if a bit embarrassed. "And you're Jazz." Wing fumbled for a datapad in his subspace, pinged a few memory-captures of the two shattered, mangled and more than half missing frames as they were pulled out of the metal and stone tomb that the shuttle had become, then a couple more as Redline stabilized them for transport, and handed it over. "I'd never seen anything like it. You look _so_ much better now. So does Prowl, though he was still in stasis so I couldn't talk to him. Your entire frame must ache with that many repairs."

"Okay, I may never have looked that bad." Jazz admitted, looking at the data captions and grudgingly had to admit that Redline had very little to work with. "And yeah, I'm sore."

He offered the datapad back to Wing and returned to studying the small jet, still so much larger than himself. "You've seen Prowl?"

"Yes, but he's in stasis," Wing nodded and hopped up to sit on the berth near Jazz's hip as he pinged a couple more memory captures to the datapad and handed it over. "There was enough of one wing and a chevron left that he has them, even if Dai Atlas and Axe don't believe he'll recognize himself. Redline did his best with what he had. And, well, you'll fit into the city better now. Might not be what you want to hear, but you do look like one of us now."

"One of you?" Jazz repeated as he resisted the urge to flinch away from the strange mech and his oddly cheerful field. "So what are you planning to do with me?"

"Yes, you both look like you're from New Crystal City," Wing smiled, flaring his field full of encouragement and warmth. "You won't get nearly as many funny looks as old-world war-frames would get. Only a handful of mecha have such heavy frames." He paused, trying to work out the intent of the second question and decided to go with the literal answer for now. "I'll show you around, help you adapt, arrange for any training you need for your function here and do my best to keep you out of trouble until you're on your own."

"So you literally are my keeper." Jazz said with a slow smile. Oh, this could turn out to be very fun, if he was reading this mech right.

"Until you don't need one, or you prove too much for me to handle," Wing nodded, suddenly serious. "Then you'd go to the Knight that tamed me. It's not an experience I recommend."

Jazz hummed softly, a non-committal sound as he settled back on the berth. "So what more will you tell me of the city, since I am stuck here until the medic lets me go?"

"Anything you want to know, I think," Wing said cheerfully. "Just an overview, or questions to start with?"

"Just any overview, whatever is important." Jazz said as he settled in to gather information and plot.

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The halls of the Citadel were quiet as Thorn made his way down to the medical wing to check on the mech that was to be his new charge. Redline has said that if he booted well the mech would be released into his care today, and the dark-armored Knight wished to be there when he woke.

Red optics swept over the still form as he stepped into the room. Prowl was the designation the stranger had given. It would be interesting to see if he lived up to the implications of his designation. Thorn had already been warned of the advanced systems this new mech carried, systems that everyone was hoping could and would be turned to the good of the city and most of the Knights were wary of facing if he didn't. There was something more unsettling about the calm compliance Prowl offered than the aggressive demands and agitation of Jazz.

"All his readings are good," Redline commented as Thorn entered the room. "Any last questions before I bring him up?"

"Not unless there are changes to the information packet you sent me." Thorn had gone over everything, from signs of strain that he should be on the lookout for, both mental and physical, to the special diet that that Prowl was to be on until his self repair systems had finished aligning and integrating all the new changes and repairs, to the warnings that he was a lot smarter than Thorn, or really anyone in the city, about anything that tac-net was directed at. "I was planning to take him by to see his pilot, just long enough to show them both that we are not lying about the other being onlined and repaired. Wing should be off duty by then so he can be present as well."

"A good plan," Redline nodded and typed in the commands for the equipment still hooked up to Prowl to bring him out of stasis and into regular recharge. "They both made it clear they wished to see the other. It's possible he'll remain in recharge, though I doubt he will. That tac-net doesn't like being shut down."

"So I've been warned." Thorn replied as he stepped closer to the berth, calm field just in Prowl's reach once the recharging mech woke. "I've already compiled a list of things for him to start on, just to keep him busy for a while. Hopefully the history of the city will keep him occupied for an orn or two while I get a feel for him."

Redline nodded, watching monitors as his patient came out of stasis, and sure enough, the tac-net that dominated so much of the mech's coding and internal design demanded he come to full awareness the moment it began to boot. With the medical overrides in place that took the better part of a groon, but Prowl's field, calm, steady and curious in the way of many intelligent sparklings, reached out much sooner.

Thorn's responded, calm and inviting, offering a sense of order and peace to the other mech. His attention remained focused on Prowl as gold optics came to life and he addressed his charge. "Welcome to New Crystal City, Prowl. I am Thorn."

There was a quiet moment as Prowl's new optics swept the room, noting those present and all objects. Then he focused on Thorn and the Knight felt the full intensity of the mech's focus. "You are my guard."

While there were the harmonics of a question, Thorn had little doubt that it really was one.

The dark aerial nodded slowly, optics never leaving Prowl's. "Until you are able and ready to be function on your own in our city, yes. How are you feeling?" The answer was stated as fact, with no undertones of threat weakness. The question was uttered all sincerity, Thorn truly concerned for the mech that was being placed in his care.

The focus and intensity...they were going to take some getting used to. But on another level Thorn was already fascinated with the mech that had consciously known less than a breem.

"The ache is minimal," Prowl reported, his tone that of responding to the medical officer, who Thorn realized Prowl's gaze had shifted to. "Processors and systems are all within normal parameters. The only warning is my tac-net objecting to the comm lockdown. I understand the reason for it," he added as he carefully sat up, only to freeze as he reached vertical.

His wings, long, elegant sweeps that could be upgraded to flight quality if they'd misjudged him as a grounder, twitched and flicked. Carefully Prowl looked over his shoulder, his gaze pausing at the white expanse, only to continue to the gradually moving sixth limb. "I would like to see my entire frame."

Thorn stepped forward slowly, glancing to Redline for approval before he offered a hand to help Prowl from the med berth and to a place where he could see himself in a reflective surface.

"You will be able to get a better look when we go to a detailer's to activate and prime your chromates. Any small cosmetic changes can be done then as well."

Prowl simply took it all in, carefully moving and angling various parts to assess his new appearance. He took slightly more care in looking at his faceplates and helm. Through it all, his field flickered between neutral and curious to a bit surprised.

"I did not assess this to be a flight frame," Prowl looked between the two Knights.

"It's not, but it could be." Was the response, calm and relaxing with Prowl's apparent acceptance of his new frame. "We were unsure of your actual frame type when we found you, with so much of it missing. Though you would not be the first grounder given flight in this city, should you have the desire and the aptitude for it."

Prowl's wings cocked in interest, though nothing intense enough to drive him. "I was a Praxian Enforcer, a standard doorwing design. This is ... quite attractive," he decided after a moment and another look at himself in the mildly reflective wall. "I would have missed the chevron and some kind of sensor wings," he admitted, golden optics looking up at Redline, who was fluffed slightly at the praise he rarely heard. "I will become accustomed to golden optics." Something uneasy flickered in his field, quickly controlled and buried. "Thank you for saving my life and building such a nice frame for me."

Redline puffed a bit more. "You are welcome, Prowl. What color were your optics?"

"Pale blue," he added the exact shade code. "A new existence, a completely new appearance. The gold is fitting."

"If you are ready, we can go." Thorn informed Prowl after checking with Redline again. "We are going to stop and see your pilot before I show you where you are going to be staying."

"I am ready," Prowl inclined his helm and wings to the lithe black jet with gold highlights and the disturbing glowing red markings.

It was a short trip between the two rooms, though Thorn took it slowly to allow Prowl time to adjust to his frame and being in motion once more. He paused outside the door and smiled a bit. "Your pilot is awake, and it sounds like his guard is already present as well. Wing is a good spark, if excitable and enthusiastic." He warned as he keyed the door open.

Inside Jazz was seated on the berth, blue visor snapping to focus on the door as it opened to allow Thorn and Prowl to enter. The dark jet glanced around before stepping to the side and motioning Prowl in.

"I am familiar with the type," Prowl said simply, his stance and voice stiff and devoid of apparent emotion, his field pulled in tight. Even his sensor wings were held at a high alert and unnervingly still.

"Hi Prowl," Wing grinned warmly at him. "It's good to see you moving about."

"Hello Wing," Prowl inclined his helm and wings politely to the Knight. He did not say a thing to the other occupant of the berth as he walked up. His field extended briefly, catching the edge of Jazz's in a request for identity confirmation and offering his own in the processes.

For a moment both mecha appeared to ignore their keepers as they went through the motions of confirming that no matter how their frames appeared different on the surface, they were still the same mecha that had departed Cybetron on a small shuttle and woke to find themselves in a strange city together.

"Sir." Jazz finally offered, though the tone was casual as he looked at Prowl, feeling out the other mecha's reaction to where they were and checking that Prowl's condition matched what his optics were telling him.

It was a relief to realize that Prowl's repairs were on par with his own. The mech was still a touch unsteady, the echoes of the massive rebuild clear, but just as clear was that his spark was strong and so was the frame.

"Soldier," Prowl replied, only the faintest relief in his voice to knowing his pilot was alive and well. Even if he did not know the mech, he was still a fellow Autobot in a very strange situation. It dramatically improved Prowl's calculations to have a mecha he could trust to follow orders and plot with on hand. "I expect you enjoyed having the company," his helm moved fractionally to indicate Wing. His tone was impossible to read, but that was par for the course with Prowl as far as Jazz had experienced.

"It's been very educational." Jazz said with a smile for his guard, and one for Prowl. "Their doc-bot said I should be getting out of here soon enough."

"Good," Prowl did sound relieved, at least to those who were good at picking up subtle signals. "I would like to meet up and talk when we have had a couple orns to explore." Prowl graced all three of them with looks, fully aware that such an event required everyone's consent now.

"I am sure that can be arranged, once the two of you have had some time to settle in properly." Thorn said, nodding encouragingly. "But if you both are satisfied that the other has been repaired and is functioning, I should get you settled before Redline comes after me for allowing you to strain yourself."

"Very well," Prowl turned after giving a final nod to Jazz and sedately followed the tall black Knight out of the room.

Prowl's keeper led him through the Citadel, explaining various points of Knight society as he did. Little things, bit of history, the function of various places, where the communal baths were, areas that were off limits.

"And this is the residential section." He keyed open a door and led Prowl into a small common area. "You have your own room. It would belong to my initiate if I was currently training one. My room is over there. You are free to move about here. In an orn or so, after you are stable and recharged, I will show you the common rooms. It is where off duty Knights often gather to refuel and socialize."

"Is the dispenser programmed for my needs, or do I receive my energon from elsewhere?" Prowl asked as his optics swept the room, taking in everything that was there, and the occasional thing that was not there.

"Redline sent the specifics for you. When you pull up the menu there will be an option labeled with your designation. You are welcome to as much as you need," Thorn informed him as he moved across the room and opened the door that led to Prowl's space. Inside was a single berth, some storage, and a meditation area. Initiates had little free time to themselves and really didn't require much more. Thorn tapped the light so that it was on when Prowl wanted to investigate. "Your door does not lock, but you are welcome to close it for privacy."

"I understand," he murmured, taking in so much more than he'd expected. He stepped inside, his optics sweeping around the room before he walked over to the berth and gave it a light press to check for softness. These sensor wings would be much less difficult to lay on than his doorwings had been, but they were still going to be very easy to compress too much. A tiny smile crossed his face when the berth was exactly right.

Prowl simply stared at it for a moment, shock openly written on his features. Thorn gave him a curious look as he quickly composed himself, but did not directly prod. "This is more than I had in Iacon," Prowl answered him. Though he did leave out that the lack was due less to his rank, he was a senior command officer, and more to his own self-induced lack of free time and complete lack of use for more. Here, though, the indulgences of privacy and space and entertainment were welcomed. Much could be learned from public broadcasts and what the victors wrote. He was eager to delve into it all.

"The door will not let you out of my quarters unless I am with you, barring an emergency. The door to the balcony is also locked. It is a flyer's balcony, and lacks rails," Thorn informed him.

While Redline had noticed no suicidal tendencies in either of the strange mecha, he had issued orders that bordered on the side of caution and stated that neither of them were to be left alone or given chances to do themselves harm that could result in their offlining. As the medic put it, he had already put far too much work into them to let it fly out a window.

Thorn crossed the central room to what looked like a large piece of art mounted between two bookshelves and triggered a switch, revealing the picture to be a vidscreen. "Feel free to use the entertainment system or read any of the files on the shelves. The collection down there on the left is a complete history of the city. I spend most of my free time in the common areas, which you can see later."

"I have no intention of harming myself or attempting to escape," Prowl said firmly, his field reaching out to brush Thorn's to back the glyphs up. "I understand the precautions."

"I am glad to hear that." An honest warmth colored Thorn's voice and field. "Would you like to refuel? We can sit and I will answer any questions you might have before recharge."

"That sounds good," Prowl nodded and followed Thorn out. He glanced out the wide balcony door-windows. "Is the city underground?"

"Yes. The entire city complex was constructed underground for protection. Your shuttle crashed into the one the outermost tunnels close to the surface." Thorn explained as they left his quarters. "So far the location has served us well."

"Which is also why you still use Cybertronian time after so long on an alien world," Prowl hummed his understanding, watching and mapping as he followed. "Dai Atlas has led you well, it seems."

Thorn nodded as he led the way to the commons, guiding Prowl in the direction of the energon dispensers when they entered the large space that served as the Citadel commons. "He has led us well. Without him we would not have survived, I suspect, at least not in an any recognizable form as Knights of the Light."

Once he and Prowl both had full cubes he motioned to a secluded seating area out of the way. "Would you like to refuel here, or take it back with us?"

Most of the room had larger tables, some round, some rectangular, and it had the same buzz of activity and energy that the commons he knew from his existence. While not every mecha here carried the large sword on their back, most did. Though he tried, he couldn't pick out a pattern in those that did not. He did not have enough information yet for that.

"Here," Prowl decided, accepting his full cube of medical grade energon thick with additives. Any opportunity to study his new environment was to be taken. "What does it mean, to be a Knight of Light?" he asked politely.

"To follow the Code of Light, to bear a Great Sword and honor it, and all that it represents." Thorn said as he waited for Prowl to settle and then found a seat himself. "And now to protect New Crystal City, its inhabitants, and our way of life."

He looked around at the others in the room. "Everyone that you see here that carries a Great Sword has undergone the same training. We have all faced tests and trials. We are brothers in arms. For many of us, the Knights are the only family we have left."

Prowl nodded slightly. "What of those who are not Knights?" he asked, his gaze sliding across several examples before focusing on his energon.

"Some are mates or stable lovers. There are a few sub-adult creations. The rest, those who carry short swords but not a Great Sword, are Initiates. Knights in training."

Prowl's optics slid across the room again, having an easier time placing mecha in one or two of those three categories. "Am I expected to find a place in the Citadel?"

Thorn shook his helm. "While you may, and there are functions here you would do well as, no, that is not an expectation. There are also many opportunities for you in the city."

"Such as?" Prowl prodded, wanting worse than he cared to admit to know what they saw him as good for.

"Your special upgrades would make you exceptional in any field where planning or data mining is central," Thorn began. "A fact I'm sure you are aware of. You are not restricted to those functions, however. What do you enjoy doing?"

That actually stalled Prowl out for a noticeable moment. Slowly, he responded, "being productive."

Thorn smiled encouragingly. "There are many opportunities for a mech to be productive in the city. As you learn about the city perhaps we can find something that _you_ enjoy as well as fills your functional need." Thorn suggested as he sipped on his energon.

"I am sure there are," Prowl murmured, focusing on his energon briefly before his coding to understand a situation prodded him to speak again. "What functions is the city most in need of?"

"If it makes you feel better, you can consider your current job to be learn about the city and being a citizen of the city." Thorn suggested. "Try new things, and see which ones are easy for you, or concentrate and see if you can find ones that you _like_ more than others."

Prowl nodded, though the motion was weak. "I have never backed down from a challenge before. I will not now."

Thorn's helm tilted to the side slightly as he studied the mech seated across from him, field reaching out in a calm, comforting manner and met a chaotic, unsettling mix of distress, loss, fear and the most intense sense of lost he'd ever felt. The veneer of tenacity and refusal to fail only just contained the hurt the rest represented. He felt for the mech. This wasn't a situation he would wish on anyone, but especially not someone who seemed honestly content with their former existence. "The city is always in need of those with the ability to see to its future. Right now we are far from full, but eventually we will need to expand, if that is your interest. Various management positions open up, as some mecha move on to other things. What sort of work did you do as an Enforcer?"

"I have always been a tactician," Prowl said simply. "I was sparked to support the tac-net I have. I have worked in emergency response, disaster response, SWAT and for the Prime preparing for the war and then managing the Autobot side of it."

"A sparked mech." Thorn murmured, more to himself than his companion. "The Knights are the city's primary defense force. There is a small civilian peacekeeping force, but in truth there is little for them to do. As you will find when you read the history, all of the mecha who came with us were willing and wanted to be here. Those who have been created since we settled have integrated well. And the entire structure of the city was made to create contentment and allow for everyone to survive."

"How do you plan to control the population once you have reached near-capacity?" Prowl asked evenly.

"By already having an expansion in progress, if not in place and habitable." Thorn replied. "And by keeping a careful optic on our rate of expansion. Every mecha capable of increasing the population is expected to contribute, but at a very controlled rate. So our growth is slow, and we could, in theory, slow it down at any point in time."

"That system has failed before," Prowl said quietly, his optics on his energon. "Free will and a large population make it very difficult to control such personal choices. I hope it works better here than it did on Cybertron."

"What would you suggest doing differently?" Thorn asked, field engaging and full of true interest. "We have millennia to work on the problem, but it is always better to start planning early."

"It has been proven that there are no good answers," he murmured quietly. "The ones that work either produce unstable societies by making the family unit an undesirable thing, or by laws and enforcement that will eventually create unrest as being too repressive. The best balance that I have devised is still of questionable functionality, and the current Prime objects to some moral lines I cross without difficulty. Additives to free energon for the poor that prevents them from kindling. Taxes that penalize rather than reward being a creator. A government-backed education system that includes moral and cultural standards that may be at odds with creators, but encourage young mecha not to have creations until they are relatively old and well off. Taking creations and wiping them if creators are incapable of caring for them."

Thorn pondered that as he sipped at his own energon, sorting through that slowly and accepting the good points as well as the difficult ones. "And what of mecha such as yourself, those that were sparked for a purpose?"

"What of us?" Prowl glanced up, his field flickering with genuine confusion but nothing else. "We exist while we serve a function. We go away when it's done."

"But at the same time you perform functions and fill positions that other mecha, kindled ones, could be trained to fill." Thorn pointed out gently. "There is no way to create mecha like you here."

"In my specific case, it would not be possible to upgrade a kindled mecha to manage my tac-net. At least not without transferring their spark to a smaller frame. A process that I understand has a very high failure rate," Prowl countered without any real emotion to it. "In general, sparked mecha should not exist. Their only valid use is in cases where it is not possible to upgrade or train a kindled mecha for the function without extreme risk to loss of life. We are only popular because we are a cheap and easily controlled commodity, while those who were kindled are not. It is an issue that failed government control paid a direct role in."

"But here it is not a consideration, something else that will slow growth down." Thorn said gently, a sadness creeping into his field as old memories rose in his processor of the world he had left behind when he had made the choice to follow Dai Atlas and the Knights he led in search of a new home. "Even those who do not wish to work or are too old are not forgotten. They may not have much, but they have sufficient energon, shelter, and medical attention. We know what failed on Cybertron, and we are doing our best to avoid it here."

"What do you do with criminals?" Prowl asked.

"They are separated from society as they serve out their punishment and we try to rehabilitate them. Those that cannot be, few that they are, are wiped or deactivated." The dark jet informed Prowl as he finished his energon. "We cannot afford to endanger the rest of the population by allowing those who threaten it to walk the city."

"I hope it continues to work," Prowl said honestly, though he did not hide his doubts. "I would like to recharge soon."

Thorn was on his feet in an instant, offering the Praxian a hand and ignoring the curious looks from the other mecha gathered in the common room. They would have time later to meet the stranger, though Thorn also knew that the gossip was going to be flying thicker than the sand in one of the surface storms in less than a breem.

"Of course. Redline said that you were to recharge until your systems woke on their own, no alarms. And then you can refuel again, and we can talk more of the city."

"That sounds ... good," Prowl accepted the hand up, forcing himself to remember and act on social protocols he had no use for. Now was not the time to alienate anyone with his natural behavior. "I do wish to see the city."

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Jazz was doing his best to hide his impatience, and he would be the first to admit that he was doing a very poor job. He was just so bored of looking at the same fours walls that not even Wing's enthusiastic company was enough to distract him any more.

The medic, Redline, had said that Jazz could leave as soon as his keeper, his _guard_ as Jazz called him in own processor, could come pick him up. That had been almost a joor ago, and Jazz was on the verge of going out looking for the white jet.

"His shift just ended," Redline commented from out of Jazz's line of light. "He's as eager to get out of comms as you are to be out of here."

"If it requires him to sit still I can see why," Jazz commented, not sure that the small white jet had ever been completely still for more than a nanosecond the entire time he had visited.

A low, knowing chuckle was all the reply Redline gave before the door opened and Wing all but burst in.

"Ready to get out of here?" the jet chirped excitedly.

"More than you can imagine." Jazz countered, leaping from the med berth and bounding for the still open door without a pause.

His keeper fell in step with him easily, chatting about anything and nothing as he guided Jazz from the medical wing to the residential quarters. Passing Knights were introduced, though everyone seemed to already know who Jazz was.

Jazz kept his optics and everything else taking in everything; the path, the architecture, the materials, the mecha, the atmosphere, the artwork, right up until a rich brown turbofox trotted up from behind them.

Wing gave a pause in his step with a light hand on Jazz's arm to slow him down so the small creature could catch up easier. "And this is Demeter," he grinned and waved towards the lithe, fluffy mechanimal.

For a nanosecond all Jazz could do was stare at the mecha before him. He had heard of mechanimal-bots, but they were so rare he had never encountered one before. "'Ello. Nice to meet ya."

"It is good to meet you," a light voice responded before the turbofox leapt up, aiming for Wing's shoulder, and transformed before landing. At not even a third of Jazz's height, she was tiny, and the long, fluffy tail was still clearly visible as it waved slowly.

While he was staring, it registered that she had the swords of a Knight, catching Jazz slightly off guard again. "You're a Knight too?" He looked at Wing. "Are there anything but Knights here?"

"In the Citadel, very few," Wing chuckled and moved to walk on. "There are a few dependents, mates or creations, but most of us don't settle down like that."

"Why not?" Jazz asked, simple curiosity as he fell back into step with the white jet, one optic on his guard and his new shoulder decoration while the other kept a watch on their route and surroundings.

Everything was noted. Windows and their level of usefulness as potential escape routes, doors and guess as to where they might lead, the exact path from medical to wherever they were going, and what they passed in-between. The ratio of fliers to grounders, and how they all looked at him. Some with some with suspicion, some that just seemed curious, a few that even appeared welcoming, but all of them judging, all of them clearly trained and experienced warriors.

"Being a Knight is not a function that is conducive to relationships," Demeter responded instead. "Between duty to the Citadel, duty to the Order and recharging, there is very little time left in an orn to devote to a mate. That time, and space, is cut down even more when you take on an Initiate to train."

"The few who have mates are mostly paired up with other Knights, or were raised by Knights," Wing added. "We have a very different existence compared to the citizens we protect."

Jazz hummed, already well on his way to thinking that the life of a Knight was no functioning for him. "So how long am I going to be interrupting your work?" He asked, hoping for an answer that consisted of a very short amount of time, since he had the feeling the sooner he was out of here the sooner he could get on with a normal life.

If he were off Cybertron he might not even bother trying to get back. There was nothing there for him but the war, and there had to be more interesting things in the universe.

"However long it takes for you to accept and adapt to living here," Wing gave the same answer as before with a smile and brush of his field that said that no length of time was a bother. "No timetable has been given for your progress."

Not the answer Jazz wanted, but it was one he could work with. If nothing else, he could act like he was adapting and accepted well enough to get out from under constant supervision.

"What did you do besides pilot shuttles?" Demeter asked as they entered a distinctly more domestic-looking area of hallways. The colors were warmer, the glyphs and decorations spoke of home, calm and safety.

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that." Jazz said casually, taking in the change and almost squirming a little at the foreign sensation. "Some security, some data flow. A lot of courier work, taking messages too sensitive to be sent along normal channels."

It was all true, on a certain level. Many of his messages had been of the rather permanent or destructive variety, but there was no reason that they needed to know that. A lie of omission at most.

"All of that exists here," Wing brightened a bit as he palmed the pad by the door with his designation glyph above it. The door slid open smoothly to a wide-open space of a main room full of knick-knacks and artwork, the results of an eclectic and indulgent personality mixed with a flier's core programming. "I'm afraid the lock won't be coded for you for a while yet. Not until you're allowed to move about on your own."

"Not that I expect it'll stop you from trying," Demeter teased with a knowing look before she leapt off Wing's shoulder and transformed to land on her paws. Her tail swayed lazily as she walked away.

"Not surprised." Jazz answered as he stepped inside and immediately started evaluating his surroundings as he made a note in the file he started on the small Knight strolling down the hall. Demeter was far too observant for his good, and a mecha that he was going to have to keep an optic on.

"Nice place." He commented after turning a complete circle in place and memorized the entire layout in one pass, noting three additional doors, a collection of furniture designed for comfort and sizable gatherings, an entertainment center to rival Blaster's, and potential weapons. Plenty of potential weapons, including a few things that actually _were_ weapons. Clearly trying to saboteur-proof the place had not occurred to Wing.

What really caught his attention though was the huge balcony that didn't even have a door and the vista of a Golden Age city that stretched out beyond it.

"It's home," Wing smiled warmly. "Go ahead and look," he motioned towards the balcony. "We're a long ways up for a grounder to fall, so be careful. There's no railing since I'm a flyer."

Jazz didn't need any additional urging, stepping out quickly and showing no apparent fear at the distance to the ground. All of his attention except for the small portion currently permanently assigned to tracking Wing was occupied by the vision before it.

It was at least the _picture_ of his dreams. Pristine spires rose among well maintained buildings, even the simplest and smallest of which blended into the entire scene in a harmonious whole. Mecha moved about freely on the ground and air, but Jazz could see and even _feel_ the difference.

There was a distinct lack of fear, of hurry, of worry. Some strolled, some moved with focus and purpose, but all of them acted like they belonged.

It was only on the periphery of the scene that things broke down. Where there should have been the gentle curve of Cybertron's surface, there were organically carved stone cavern walls. Where there should have been stars there was a stone cavern ceiling.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Wing's voice next to him was warm and very proud of this place, his home.

Jazz nodded, but he couldn't help but ask as he looked over at Wing's elegant flight panels. "Yeah, but don't you miss the stars and the sky?"

"Yes," he murmured. "Most fliers do. Most make due with this airspace," he waved to the cavern over the city and the ample space to fly a few laps and stretch your wings. "Those who don't manage to sneak to the surface on occasion."

The fact that there were ways for one to _sneak_ to the surface was a fact that Jazz noted and filed in a moment without an outward twitch. Instead he simply sighed and looked around once more before turning his attention to what was inside and in his immediate reach.

"So where do I recharge? The couch?"

"You have a room," Wing smiled and motioned for Jazz to follow. "Mine is there," he motioned to one door. "Though you're welcome to recharge with me if you like, you do have your own space," he motioned to the door across the room as he walked to it and palmed it open. "It doesn't lock, Initiates don't have that luxury, but it is your space until you don't need it anymore."

A glance told Jazz that it was a _nice_ room, nicer than his quarters in Iacon. A simple entertainment center was on one wall, some storage compartments under it. A large window with a view of the city graced the far wall with a nice sized and plush looking berth under it. The bulk of the empty floor was covered by a soft fiber mat.

Jazz let out a low whistle, impressed as he wandered in and started poking at things. The entertainment center had a nice enough sound set up, which was something he would definitely take advantage of provided he could find some decent music around here. The storage compartments were empty, except for an extra cover for the berth.

And speaking of the berth...Jazz headed there next, poking at it with a couple of fingers before flopping gracefully on the surface and rolling so that he was looking up at the ceiling with a content sound.

"Nice." He said again. 'Thank you' almost slipped out on its heels, but no matter how much they had done for him, Jazz couldn't quite bring himself to say that yet. "I think recharging here will be real easy."

"Good," Wing's smile was easy and accepting of the absent graces. He knew this mech had a long way to go before he was fully civilized. He'd shown appreciation. It was an excellent start. "Would you like some energon in the common room before I leave you to relax for a while?"

"Energon is always good." Jazz said, rolling from the berth with the same grace. He was starting to like this new frame. It was different from his old one in many ways, and he was still testing and exploring its limits. But the old strains and aches from worn parts was gone, problems that had existed even after he had joined the Autobots. There was a smoothness to his new form that he was finding extremely pleasing.

"Energon is never in short supply," Wing smiled warmly as he turned and guided Jazz to the main door. "We generate it from magma, solar, thermal and hydro as well as several chemical reactions. Do you have a preference, or like any additives?"

"Dunno. I've never really had the chance to try anything like that." Jazz admitted. The truth was, most of the time he was just thankful to have fuel, and he had learned long ago just to hork down whatever he could find as fast as he could. That way if it tasted nasty you wouldn't have time to gag, and the faster you got it down, the less chance there was of someone trying to take it from you. Even among the Autobots, where it was supposedly rationed according to need and frame requirements there were bullies who weren't above trying to get more than their allotted share by taking what they wanted from others.

"Then we'll just have to start with one and try them all," the Knight's smile brightened at the prospect of sharing. "Do you like bitter or sweet flavors?"

"There's a difference there too?" Jazz said, searching through his memories looking for something to compare it to. He could recall one time getting ahold of some energon candies, and how much he had liked the flavor of them, so different and strong on his glossa. "Sweet, maybe?" He finally guessed.

"Then we'll start with aluminum and gold," Wing trilled eagerly as he led his charge down different hallways and lifts to one of the lower levels of the residential tower they were in. "Solar and thermal tend to be a touch sweeter than hydro, and magma is its own thing."

Jazz followed, memorizing this route as well, and the small changes in feel an emotional atmosphere as they went along. "How big is this place?" He asked as they stepped into a large common room, arranged to accommodate many different types of mecha and activities.

There were standard tables and seating which he assumed were for refueling, cozy corners for games and more intimate meetings, windows overlooking more of the city and another balcony that could handle larger groups. Extravagance to him, but from the way Wing was acting common place around here.

"There are two hundred and eighty three Knights, nineteen Initiates and twenty three dependents in the Citadel, but we designed the Citadel for a complement of six hundred and their dependents. There are about three million civilians in the city," Wing rattled off easily as he waved to a couple others, including one with a slightly lighter build of his same frametype in dark maroons and blues. "Marwir, my Daoshi. She trained me to be a Knight."

That look and shudder was enough to convince Jazz that maybe Wing had been right, and Jazz really did not want to end up at the mercy of the Knight that had trained Wing. Though the white jet did not seem broken or permanently scarred from being in her care either. It was something else to consider as he followed Wing in the direction of the energon dispensers.

"Is that the total number that escaped with you?" Jazz was trying to place when they would have left, and was reaching the conclusion that it was likely it was before he was every functioning, since he couldn't recall hearing anything of that number leaving during his time on the streets or among the Autobots, and that large of an exodus would have caused a stir at either time.

Wing shook his helm. "The city has more than tripled in size, and there are almost twice as many Knights as when they landed."

"So you have been here for a little while?" Jazz said, poking at the energon dispenser and, noting Prowl's designation when it came up and studied it curiously.

Wing nodded, waiting patiently for Jazz to finish contemplating what his friend was given as a default ration and read what his own was. "Nine thousand and sixteen vorns since landing."

"Wow." Jazz murmured, more to himself than to Wing before he stepped back from the screen and motioning Wing forward. "You were going to recommend something, I think?"

"Solar with gold," Wing grinned, his fingers expertly tapping in the order for Jazz, then a slightly different one for himself. "And a cube of solar with aluminum."

Jazz took the lead once they had their energon, choosing one of the out of the way corners with a couple of comfortable seats, one of which he thought looked as though it would accommodate Wing's frame type well.

He nudged the chair around until it was backed up against the wall and he could see everything else going on in the room. Finally settled he looked over at his guard. "So what was leaving like?"

"I don't really know," Wing said without shame as he settled and sipped his cube. "Those there said it was terrifying. The launch was early, and while the Citadel was under attack. Several Knights gave their sparks to hold the army off so everyone could evacuate. Even with that sacrifice, not all the ships escaped Cybertron's system. We lost so much, a third of the ships by the time we found this world, but we made it."

"So you weren't there?" Jazz pressed, trying to process that and working on how old Wing would be then.

The white jet shook his helm. "I was kindled well after the city was established. I'll be five thousand and sixteen vorns, in two metacycles."

That was another surprise to Jazz, and he sipped as his energon as he took the time to process that. Wing was young, even compared to himself, and Jazz wasn't that old. "Have you always been a Knight?"

"Not always, I had to grow up and train first," Wing gave him a cheeky grin. "But it's what I wanted to be as soon as I understood enough to know what it meant."

"Were your creators Knights as well?"

"Dai Atlas and Axe," Wing nodded. "I was raised in the Citadel."

Those were designations that Jazz had heard several times during his short stay in the medical berth, and now that he made connections his visor flashed in surprise. "The leader of the Knights is your creator?"

"Yes," Wing nodded. "Though I wasn't raised much differently than any other Knight's sparkling. Just slightly bigger shadows making sure I didn't get in _too_ much trouble," his golden optics glittered with playful amusement.

"And I bet you still managed to get into a lot of trouble." Jazz responded with a small smile of his own. "I met one of your creators, when I was in the med bay. Wouldn't really tell me where I was when I asked, and mostly wanted to know how I got here. Seemed nice enough though."

"Axe is," Wing nodded easily. "Care to try the aluminum additive?" he offered his cube. "He can still be scary as the Pit when he has reason, but he's usually pretty laid back. He needs to be to keep Dai Atlas level," he almost snickered.

The cube was accepted and tasted, Jazz savoring the flavors and nodding in approval. "Interesting, though a little sweet, even for me." He said as he returned it to its owner.

"I have yet to meet something too sweet for me," Wing snickered as he took his cube back. "How's the gold?"

"That I might try again." Jazz answered as his gaze wandered over the rest of the occupants of the common room. "So what do you do when you have free time, normally? Since I assume that watching a mecha for orns on end isn't part of your normal routine?"

Wing chuckled. "I patron many of the confectionaries in the city. Having wings and a small frame makes it easy to get from one end to the other fast enough it's practical for a treat. I skydance, though not often. Mostly that's for festivals, not fun. And I spend time with my friends, in the berth and out."

Friends...that was a foreign concept for Jazz, one that he knew far more theory about than practical experience. It was hard to like and trust others when there was little about them to like and even less to trust. "Skydance? What sort of festivals?"

"All the major ones," Wing trilled, noting that his charge was starting to wind down and would want to recharge soon. "Orn of the Becoming, Honoring the Creator Spark, First Light Festival and a bunch more. We celebrate New Crystal City's founding and honor the Exodus too."

Jazz nodded and hummed softly. He remembered the celebrations for those, early in his functioning. They had been something of highlights for him, when he had eaten better and mecha had been more charitable. He finished off the energon, looking at the empty cube a little distantly.

"You can have more if your tanks aren't full," Wing offered softly. "Or we can go back to our quarters so you can relax for a while."

"I'm full." Jazz responded, vanishing the cube. In truth, his tanks were fuller than he could remember them being before he had come here. "Recharge sounds good."

Wing smiled warmly and stood, offering a friendly hand to the grounder as he subspaced his half-finished cube. "Then you can recharge in your berth. When you're feeling up to it, we can visit a detailing shop and you can have some color added to your finish."

"Really?" The blue visor lit at that, Jazz's processor springing to life again at the prospect. This...could be fun. To be able to choose his own detail, even if he hadn't been able to have much say in his frame form.

"Yes, really," Wing smiled warmly and led him from the room.


	2. What the City Offers

**Grasping a Chance 2: What the City Offers**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thorn opened the door to the shop and ushered his charge in ahead of him. "You'll feel better once we are done." He encouraged. "Your frame is the same uniform color because Redline meant for you to choose your own color scheme and accents once you were able, not because it was how we intended for you to remain. Here, Colorwheel will help you, and don't worry. She is well accustomed to serving Knights, and she knows our tastes and preferences as a whole."

The shop was small, but located in one of the nice service districts of the city. It was also Prowl's first excursion out into the City itself.

"If you say so," Prowl responded, bewildered enough that it showed. What he made very sure didn't show was the fear. There was no question this was a test, but it was one he was spectacularly unsuited to passing. The best he could hope for was that cooperating and listening to Colorwheel, as the supposed expert, wasn't too poor a choice.

"Ah, Thorn!" A smooth voice crossed the room, heralding the arrival of the shopkeeper. A slender femme, boldly patterned in green and gold with white accents approached them, green optics dancing at the sight of the Knight in her domain. "Come for a change in your detail finally?"

The dark Knight laughed, smiling at the femme. "No Colorwheel. I am still quite content with my appearance. We are actually here for my charge, Prowl. He is a new arrival to the City."

That tidbit alone was newsworthy enough to catch the femme's attention, and she was circling Prowl in an instant, taking in every angle and detail of his frame. "New? New frame too. Redline's work?"

"Yessir," Prowl responded on reflex, falling back on the standards of a lifetime under stress. His frame stiffened to perfect military attention, his optics focused forward, but the rest of his sensors were tracking her movements.

"You'd be stunning in dark colors with bright accents. Black with green and gold, or gray with blue and reds." She said, considering him from all angles as Thorn backed away, amused as he watched the pair. Colorwheel was very forward in her opinions, but her ultimate goal was to please her clients, and he was sure that Prowl would walk away pleased when it was all said and done.

The word 'bright' got Prowl's optics to twitch towards her and there was little missing the flicker of discomfort in his field before he settled both back in place. "May I see what you have in mind?"

"Of course." She motioned her current client to towards the back of the shop. "Let me get a scan of your frame to input into the system, and then we can overlay it with different color details for you to view and decide."

The booth was an open place in back with mirrors and viewing screens on the outside wall.

Prowl compliantly allowed himself to be scanned, only stepping up to a monitor next to her when motioned to.

Colorwheel tapped at the control, humming to herself as she made some adjustments, and then called up the first image for Prowl to view.

It was his frame, tall and proud with golden optics shining out from a dark helm with a gold chevron. Green and gold accents ran down his arms and legs, highlighting them and adding visual depth to his frame while matching accents traced his wings, drawing optics down the length of them. "Option one." She announced. "You'll catch every optic in a place when you step in the door, flyer or grounder, with those sensor wings of yours."

Though he didn't say anything, Thorn already recognized the faint twitch of his wings, a movement that would have been invisible in doorwings but showed in the tips of the pair that reached below his knee joints. Prowl's field gave it away to Colorwheel. As tight as he held it, she was an expert at picking up subtle clues from clients.

Optic-catching was the last thing Prowl wanted.

Colorwheel picked up on her client's dislike immediately, and tapped some buttons to bring up another image. It was the same stance, but this time the base color was a deep storm gray, highlighted with red and contrasting blue. "Another option, just as a flattering but more subtle in contrast." She offered.

"Red chevron, yellow center," Prowl said softly, tacking on a databurst of the exact shades. He never thought it'd miss his colors, but his face ... he wanted to look like himself. He was already doubting his choice to stick with golden optics. Looking at himself in the image, he wanted his optics back. "Pale blue optics," he added with another burst of the shade he'd once had.

For a moment Colorwheel hesitated, then looked pleased that Prowl was finally taking part in his own design.

She studied it for a moment, then made the first changes he requested with the red and gold. Then she added the optics. "Like so?" She asked.

He hesitated at the shift from yellow to gold, but tried very hard to look at it from a somewhat outside perspective. It did look good. His face was just as striking as it had always been, with the pale blue and bright red drawing attention upwards. His frame, while not the black and white he was used to, was still neutral enough that he could stand in the corner, watch and listen or simply be present, and not draw attention from those who expected it.

"The gold, does it have meaning here?" he asked, trying to express his concern without drawing too much of the past into it.

"Not any more than any other color." Colorwheel answered, playing with the shades a little bit, lightening the gray a few shades and toning down the blue some, as well as adding subtle highlights in a few shades of gray.

"What did it mean where you're from?" Thorn asked, trying to pull up files from Praxus that he might have missed. Color wasn't mentioned that he could recall.

"The metallics are for nobles and high ranking officers in Praxus," Prowl said simply. "Gold was reserved for royalty, generals and the like."

"It means nothing of the sort here," Thorn promised, flaring his wings to show off the golden plating between each of the three black spines and motioning to the golden highlights that liberally decorated his black frame. "It's just a color and finish."

Slowly Prowl nodded and turned his optics to what was on the holo-display. It looked ... attractive. Not a glyph he associated with himself. Yet, he did like it. "This will work."

"So how is this?" Colorwheel finally asked as she pulled an image up to fill the screen and stepped back so that Prowl and Thorn could both view it.

The final image was Prowl, frame a blending of greys with subtle blue and red highlights the accented all of the best features and lines of the elegant frame without being overbearing or ostentatious. A red chevron, centered with gold was the centerpiece of his helm, and subtle gold accents traced the highlights of his frame, drawing the whole image together.

"The optics are something that you will have to speak with Redline about. That is a medical procedure, not a cosmetic one that I am capable of performing."

"I understand," Prowl inclined his helm to her. "I believe I will like this," he added, trying his best not to sound as clueless as he was. He really was perfectly happy being all white.

"It will look good," Thorn agreed with a light trill. "I think it suits you. Elegant, subtle, quiet and very attractive."

Prowl clamped down on his field and wings. He did not want any hint of how creepy that sounded to him to get out. He was sure, intellectually, that it was meant as a friendly complement. Thorn had done nothing to hint that he was planning to get in the berth with him.

The motion was not lost on Colorwheel, and she offered him a smile as she started to program the settings on the booth that would adjust Prowl's base coat. "You may not understand yet, but this finish will actually allow you to blend in better. An all white mecha in the city attracts attention because they are so uncommon. Someone with a paint job such as the one you have chosen will blend right in."

"Wing is almost completely white," Prowl glanced between them, wondering if there was an answer other than 'that's Wing for you.'

"And Wing loves being the center of attention." Thorn pointed out as Prowl was ushered into the booth."We'll stop and see Redline when we get back, if he is not busy."

"Follow my direction, keep your motions smooth and steady, and we'll be done quickly, at least with this part." Colorwheel instructed as the spray nozzles hissed to life and Prowl's transformation began.

She found him an extremely compliant and exact client, which was nice. It was a distinct improvement over the playful, fun and decidedly opinionated outsider that had come the previous orn. They may have arrived together, but they couldn't have been more different if they had tried. From their nature to their choice of finish they were polar opposites, and she suspected that Thorn was going to have an easier time with his charge than Wing was going to have with the other new arrival. Even if it was clear that this much calmer, more stable one had a small minefield of issues of his own.

"Excellent." She praised as the seal lamps turned on that would finish bonding the base coat to Prowl's plating. "As soon as those turn off you can step out here to the table and I'll start on the detail work."

Prowl held perfectly still, not even activating his vocalizer to respond until the lights dimmed and switched off. "Understood," he said softly and followed her guidance to the detailing area. With barely more than a couple light touches he stood, perfectly poised and still, with not one bit of plating touching another. Even his sensor wing fingers had spread into three distinct spans of metal. It wasn't a comfortable stance, but Prowl maintained it with seemingly effortless ease.

It was a trait that Thorn took note of. It was an invaluable one for a Knight, a function he had hope that this mech might just find appealing.

Colorwheel went to work with practiced ease. Fluid movement glossed the appropriate colors over Prowl's chassis and all six limbs, even gracing his helm with a few very fine marks of color that blended into the greater storm theme she was creating on this living canvas. Each coat sealed with a hand lamp bonding it to the base coat before she moved on to the next spot. This was one of the more complicated frames she'd dealt with in some time, and doubly difficult as it was so sensor heavy. Despite all the ways she had to be careful, this was a dance of pure joy for her, watching her creation take shape and depth before her, but far more, watching each mecha gradually settle into their colors as they watched their unique look develop.

Finally Colorwheel set her supplies aside and stepped back. "Excellent. Now turn slowly."

Prowl complied, his optics on the various mirrors and displays that showed off his new appearance. Despite his unease going into this, he had to admit he _liked_ how he looked, and wasn't that an incredibly strange sensation. Carefully he shifted his sensor wings, closing the fingers of his sensor wings, then opening them again. Every movement he made was a check on his appearance, but also on the functionality of his frame.

She knew her work. Not a single sensor had been blocked. She could appreciate the methodical care in which this client assessed everything about his new appearance.

"You do look good," Thorn commented from where he was leaning on the short barrier between the studio and the conference area. "Colorwheel is the best."

The femme preened subtly at the praise as she picked up a polished cloth and approached Prowl, wiping away smudges and flaws that most likely only her optics could see with a skilled hand.

"Very professional." She complimented Prowl and stepped back with a nod of approval.

::He'll make some mecha a very handsome lover or mate.:: She added to Thorn privately. ::If he ever adjusts that much.::

::He's only been out of medbay for two orns. Give him some time,:: the black Knight sent back. "If you're satisfied, we can go meet Wing and Jazz in the library."

Prowl perked up noticeably at the mention of a library. "I am satisfied."

They fell into a companionable silence as they walked through the city towards the Knight's Citadel. While it was all the same roads, Prowl did take note of how others looked at him. It seemed the paintjob hadn't lessened the curiosity that much, but some of the looks he received made his engine try to rev in distress. He throttled it back hard, forcing it to remain at an idle as he tracked down the line of code that was telling him all these mecha were looking to interface with him and tagged it as corrupt.

The relief when the sensation abated was intense, nearly enough to catch Thorn's attention, but thankfully the black Knight was happy to keep chatting away about things that Prowl recorded but wasn't listening to with more than a fraction of his processor power. The chatter continued about all matter of subjects as they entered the Citadel and wound their way to a tower dedicated to knowledge.

With his first step inside, before he'd even fully grasped just how many hundreds of millions of datapads and data cores were on display, Prowl simply froze. He was too entranced to even hide the look of wonderment on his features, and it read as clear as day to anyone who managed to see him.

Thorn stopped and smiled, watching with pleasure as Prowl took in the library, and giving the Praxian all the time he wanted to look around.

This was the first real positive reaction he'd gotten on a level that might indicate that his charge would be tempted to stay of his own will.

"How much did you salvage?" Prowl's voice was barely above an awed whisper.

"As much as we could." Thorn answered, a soft note in his voice. "The Knights had extensive records, and we had been collecting them for a long time. You are welcome to spend as much time here as you want. There is history, music, literature...thousands of subjects."

A faint trembling consumed Prowl's entire frame before he controlled himself and nodded. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. We're supposed to meet Wing and Jazz in one of the study rooms. Your pilot went to see Colorwheel several orns ago." The dark colored Knight informed Prowl as he motioned toward a side door.

Despite the apparent distraction the bookfiles and datapads and data cores represented, Prowl followed along compliantly, only to stop again when the door opened.

Wing was Wing, a white blaze in the space and sitting with one hip on the table.

Jazz was lounging in a chair across from the New Crystal City jet, now dark pedes up on the table. He looked up as the door opened and smiled brightly at Prowl, visor flashing. "Well look at you, boss. Snazzy new paint job."

While Prowl had striven for a subtle look, Jazz had apparently gone for just the opposite. Bright blue and reds blazed across his frame, with brilliant white highlights.

"That was not the effect I was attempting," Prowl deadpanned back. "Yours, however, I believe does meet the definition of snazzy."

Wing was desperately trying to hide his laughter at the pair. "You know, you don't have to hide it if you're a couple."

He just missed Thorn's near-frantic comm not to bring such things up, but it was too late. Prowl stiffened, his wings locked in tension and it was only Thorn's firm grip on his arm that kept him from bolting.

Wing's optics went wide and he held up his hands, palms flat and facing Prowl as the dark mech tried to pull away. "Whoa, relax, I didn't mean anything by it. We aren't that wound up about such things here."

Jazz chuckled at the sudden tension and shook his helm at Wing. "We're not." He informed the jet easily. "We'd only met a handful of times in passing before my commander assigned me to be his pilot." It was unbecoming of an officer to panic at such a harmless assertion. Even if it hadn't been all that harmless back on Cybertron, Prowl should have simply snapped that he wasn't fraternizing, or whatever term he preferred, and that was that. To reflexively try to bolt rather than defend himself, that just wasn't normal for a command-level officer. Even one who was dedicated to tactical.

Optics were kept subtly on the tense mecha and his keeper in the door while he spoke. Prowl's reaction was of interest to Jazz, and was piquing his curiosity far more than he let on.

Thorn's hand moved from Prowl's arm to his shoulder, guiding the tense mech into the room and to an open chair gently. "You are likely to get many comments like that, and compliments on your new look, here. Many mecha are just curious, or are sincerely complimenting your choice of aesthetics for your frame."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "If you feel that they are implying more than that, you _do_ have the right to say no. We do not force mecha like that here."

Prowl hadn't really settled, but he allowed himself to be sat down and remained there. It wasn't as if he had anywhere to go and once the initial reaction wore off he allowed that truth to steady him. "Then I will learn to ignore them," he vented slightly and forced himself to stand down the rest of the way. It wasn't an easy process with his tac-net in a frenzy over his excessive reaction.

A cube of sweet coolant was pressed into his hand and he drank without question. His systems routed it to his tac-net and processors, and he let out a small sound of relief when the intense heat calmed.

"What just happened?" Wing asked quietly when it seemed that things had calmed down.

"I was sparked to operate the tac-net I have, built to support it and relay its results to the outside," Prowl said quietly, still sipping on the coolant. "When I was upgraded to a fully functional mecha frame and programming, it was discovered that it wasn't entirely compatible with the tac-net. The fix that was implemented ran everything through my tac-net. Including my emotional protocols. If I respond strongly enough to something, my tac-net can overheat trying to understand."

"And the panic?" Wing pressed gently.

"Do you have any irrational aversions?" Prowl finally looked up at the white jet. "Relationships and its closely related social parameters are one of mine."

"You can learn, and you have all the time you need to do so without hurting yourself." Thorn encouraged, pulling up a seat of his own. "There is no war here, and no need for you to strain yourself unnecessarily. No one will think less of you if you excuse yourself from a situation because you are uncomfortable."

Though this sort of revelation did throw a little shadow on his thoughts that Prowl might be suited to the life of a Knight, and the life of a Knight to him. While all Knights were not social creatures like himself and Wing, none of them were prone to have almost meltdowns in public from normal interactions either. It was possible to train him not to, and it was possible that he was hardwired to respond that way. Time and a little effort would tell.

"I will record that in my reaction tree," Prowl promised, his tac-net gradually settling and moving on to background threads. He looked at Jazz. "How have you been settling in?"

"Doing good." Jazz said with that same cheerful smile he always offered the world, whether it was the truth or not. "City seems to be a nice place, plenty of opportunities, from what Wing says."

Truthfully, he had no desire to return to Cybertron, a fact that he had admitted to their hosts the first orn he had been conscious. That still did not mean that he wished to remain here in New Crystal City. All he had seen so far was the surface, and what the Knights wanted them to see and experience.

Jazz wanted to see more before he made his decision, even a short term one. There had to be darkness here. There was darkness everywhere.

"How about you?" He asked Prowl in return.

"Adapting," the dark mech said simply with no outward sign if he considered it good or bad. "As you just saw, the attitudes here leave much to be desired from my perspective. Being cut off from my function is far worse. The energon is good, the berth soft and at least in the Citadel there are enough fliers no one has tried to touch my wings."

His wording was not lost on Thorn, and the Knight made it priority to find a task that would fulfill Prowl's programming need, or at least take the edge off of it, soon. He was not about to fail his charge. Not on something so fundamental as torturing a mech by denying his function needs. No mech would be content without their function being fulfilled, if that had one set in their core programming.

Jazz nodded at the answer before looking between the two Knights. "So now that you've gotten us fixed up and painted up, what now?"

"At least some education," Wing's grin was apologetic. "Before we can even think about letting you have any freedom of movement, you must know the basics of local law, culture and economy. Just enough that you don't crash into trouble that everyone here knows better, and so you don't get ripped off when you have some credits. Some leniency will be granted just because you are so new, but it's better if you don't need it."

Prowl's wings twitched and he leaned forward, open interest and even a bit of eagerness on his features.

"We can start your lessons next orn, if you like." Thorn told them both. "Wing and I will do some of the teaching, but there will be other Knights helping us instruct you. Once you have proven that you are learning what we are teaching you, we can start discussing other things."

Jazz perked up, pedes dropping to the floor as his chair righted itself completely. "Sounds good to me. What about you Prowl?"

"Knowledge is always a good thing," the Praxian nearly purred, his engine giving a soft rev of anticipation.

Every line of him spoke of eagerness, and Jazz had no doubt that it was genuine. A sparked tactical mech ... intel was their energon, just as important to their function as it was to his own. Only for Jazz it was gathering intel, and for Prowl it was dismantling and using it.

"So long as you remember to recharge and refuel, I will arrange for clearance to as much of the library as I can," Thorn promised his charge, relieved to see so much positive energy in him.

"I'll keep an optic on him." Jazz promised, visor flashing in a wink to the Knight. "So long as you're agreeable, of course." He added to Wing.

"I do not need a keeper," Prowl snapped at Jazz, his wings flaring slightly in aggression and pointedly not looking at either Knight. "Focus your energies on your own progress."

"Umm, I don't mind, but you might want to check with Prowl," Wing said cautiously, more than a touch unsettled by the mood swings on display. ::You might want to get Redline to check out his emotional processing. There is no way that's normal.::

"If I'm around to keep an optic on you, you can keep one on me, and make sure I learn everything I need to." Jazz pointed out, not intimidated by the display as he relaxed back in his chair once more, tipping it back and letting it fall forward in a slow rhythm.

::I am hoping that it is simply a lack of using social protocols, and a not an actual lack of the protocols themselves. Or even worse, programming against them. In a professional setting he is fine. Anything that starts to delve into the casual, except in the most controlled of environments, sets him off.:: Thorn replied, pinging Redline's message system with a non urgent call and an explanation of Prowl's behavior so that a check could be initiated.

The sooner he got this looked at the better, if he really wanted his charge to be able to integrate fully into their society in any capacity.

::Agreed. Undersocialized we can fix. It just takes time. Even if they're missing, Redline can install them and he can be socialized. If it's coded ... his options are going to be very limited,:: Wing replied sadly.

Prowl huffed but settled, a hard golden optic on Jazz. "Do you normally have this little respect for authority, or is this because I no longer have any?"

"Both." Jazz replied, offering a rare completely honest answer even as he absently noted that the golden optics were less intimidating than the pale ice blue had been. "You ain't got any here, at least not yet. But none of my officers ever liked me. Why do you think I ended up with Prowl duty?"

Prowl actually stilled, an odd sensation passing through his field. It was there and gone too fast for Thorn to teek, but it wasn't anger. That much the Knight could tell.

Prowl cocked his helm and regarded Jazz quietly, his gaze steady, for just a little too long. "I ... understand," he eventually murmured, his field and frame stilling even more.

Jazz huffed and looked at Wing. "Is there any way the medic can install a sense of humor?" He asked, half serious and a little worried. This was not the mecha that he knew, by reputation or from his short time spent in the tactician's company.

"The last effort to make me more normal resulted in nearly deactivating me," Prowl said very quietly, his manner calm, centered and very reserved.

It rather reminded Jazz of looking at a gifted op the first time they really got chewed out. Prowl knew he wasn't in real trouble, but it still looked like it hurt. A lot.

"I didn't mean nothing by it." Jazz said, trying to sooth a bit. He needed to remember that Prowl couldn't take his teasing well. He tilted his helm to catch Prowl's downcast optics. "Truth? There is only a select group of mecha that are allowed to tote you around. I was the one available that orn."

A half-truth, but one that he hoped would make the gray mech feel a little better.

Prowl simply inclined his helm. "Which made you the one that was lost with me."

Jazz shrugged. "I was with the Autobots because I really didn't have any place else to go. Not terribly upset that I'm not there anymore. Nothing says the Decepticons were after you. At this rate, we may never know."

Prowl nodded, something quivering deep inside him before he forced himself to stop thinking about it. "It does seem irrelevant," he murmured, visibly struggling just to vocalize that much. "If you have lost so little, you should be able to adapt quickly to this place. Your records do indicate you are gifted at adapting."

It left it unsaid but painfully clear that the same could not be said of himself. Prowl had lost so much he was still working out just how much was gone.

"A talent I've had to develop." Jazz replied as he bounced to his feet and looked at Wing. "And if everyone is happy with this meeting, can I see more of the city?"

"Of course," Wing smiled easily, wondering if his charge had made the statement for his own good, or to give his companion time in private. Either way, it was a good idea and he happily led Jazz out of the room.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

In the library, hooked into multiple data cores, Prowl could, for upwards of several groons at a time, forget that he had no function, no purpose and a very uncertain future. He was in bliss, churning through the masses of data and phrasing it for the hundreds of billions of calculations his tac-net was running. For the first time since arriving, his frame relaxed and was abandoned beyond the requirements of fueling. Only when his systems pinged an energon request did he pull himself into his frame enough to tend to it. Whether the cube was there, delivered by Jazz or Thorn, or he fetched it himself, he saw to his energy levels and delved into the data with a relish that bordered on transcendence.

It reminded him of his original frame, of the freedom of not having a frame to tend to, of the incredible peace that came with doing his function and pushing his tac-net to the limit.

When he finished and reluctantly focused on his frame once more, fully integrating into it again, his chronometer indicated that he had been occupied for six and a half orns. He felt more calm, centered and sane than he had since arriving.

He knew it couldn't last, but that thought was deleted the moment it arrived.

Prowl glanced around, his gaze locking onto his keeper with ease. The tall, lean black form glided over and landed smoothly.

"When will we be expected to contribute to the population?" Prowl asked simply with no hint what kind of answer he was hoping for, if any had a preference.

"Not before you have fully integrated into the population with a function, and then your names will be added to the roster that tracks the population and reproduction rates, and whose turn is next," Thorn refrained from adding the 'if' that was still lurking in the back of his processor. "While we wish to increase the population to protect against being wiped out, we are not interested in increasing our numbers recklessly. To add those we cannot support but would be inviting the problems we left behind."

He hummed for a moment, thoughtful, but adding. "There is the occasional accidental creation, but they are rare. And desire to procreate, or lack thereof, is also noted in personal files."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance. "So those who are likely to be poor creators are less likely to be asked to do so."

"Yes. There is hope that every mecha will have at least one creation, to perpetuate talents and sparklines, but we do not ask mecha to perform actions that they are ill suited to. That only leads to problems." Thorn explained as he settled more comfortably next to his charge, studying Prowl curiously. "Is there a reason you ask?"

"Given the condition of my emotional and social protocols, even when operating at peak functionality, it is unlikely I could provide the emotional connection it is indicated that sparklings require," he said simply.

"You would not be expected to raise a creation alone. That only places stress on the creator, and has no real benefit for the creation." Thorn argued reasonably. "You really don't have anything to worry about for a while. They won't even do a real creator evaluation on you until you've attained your citizenship and been settled in and functioning for a while."

He could understand Prowl's argument, but once Redline had confirmed that Prowl's reactions were just a lack of implementation of social protocols, and not a lack of the protocols or programming against them, the Knight had become much more confident that this was something Prowl could overcome with the right training and support. The mech certainly had the will and intellect to learn anything he set his processors to.

The storm gray mech would never be a social butterfly of any sort, unlike his companion, but Thorn was sure he would reach the point where he was willing to relax among comrades and willing to make actual friends, even if they were few. Nothing Prowl had said or done indicated an actual objection to the idea. At worst it was a confused look asking why he'd want to. Never an outright rejection. That in and of itself meant it was a correctable issue. Prowl was aware of his shortcomings in the area and wasn't against corrections, so long as it did not damage his function.

Thorn allowed the silence to drag on past Prowl's nod, sure his charge was working himself up to asking something else.

It was a while in coming.

"Now that I have phrased the library, I need a new function," Prowl said with more firmness than he'd yet displayed, but it was also laced with a desperation that seemed out of place.

"If you've gone through everything that you have access to," And there was no doubt in Thorn's processor that Prowl had done just that no matter how impossible it sounded, "Then it is time for you to start learning about mecha in a social sense. How well do you learn through observation?"

That blank look again. Thorn was learning to dread it. It was as clear as any words that Prowl had no clue how to answer, and likely didn't even fully grasp the question. It was also the first warning sign that the tac-net was revving up in a bad way.

"Understood," Thorn waylaid the building storm. "We'll just go to a cafe and find out." He stood and offered his hand to his charge. It was a simple courtesy, but a test as well.

Prowl accepted it with a strange look and painfully tight field. He wasn't comfortable in the least. This wasn't what he had hoped for.

Thorn picked a small place, one that he was very familiar with. The cafe had a quiet atmosphere, and the owner knew him well. Then the pair entered Thorn led Prowl straight to a corner booth, a place where they would not be noticed much, but where they could observe much of the goings-on of the place.

The operator was a quiet mech himself, bringing over Thorn's usual and setting it on the table before glancing at Prowl. "Anything for you?"

Prowl checked his fuel levels, coolant levels and oil with a quick systems ping. "No." He waited for the mech to go away, then turned to Thorn. "Is this really necessary for my new function?"

Thorn took a sip of his drink, his field loose enough for Prowl to feel. Comfortable. Safe. Relaxed. With an edge of pleasure from the smooth consistency and taste of the drink on his glossa. He didn't get much in return, but what he could teek was varying levels of stress. "What function have you chosen?" Thorn asked as his gaze skimmed over the other patrons of the small cafe, noting each one, their frame type and their general activities.

The stress in Prowl's field spiked sharply. "Choose?" That lost look crept back onto Prowl features. "I was created as a tactical planner."

"And if you wish to remain that there are variations needed on many levels in the city, in everything from emergency response to construction planning. But we will not force you in one specialty or the other. And there are other options outside of just planning that you could choose to function in. But here in the city all of them require a level of social ability to be able to interact with civilians."

Thorn focused on Prowl. "Short of the Knights there are very few organizations that operate with the sort of rigid discipline you are accustomed to, and none that operate on a purely business mentality. And even the least social of the Knights can still interact with their brothers and sisters and understand what is going on. To survive here, you need to learn to read others, and to understand comments made in social settings."

Anger flared brightly in Prowl's field before he stamped it down. "Why? Why can I not be allowed to simply perform my function?"

Thorn was silent as he thought, studying the mech with him and seeing Prowl's frustration. "Work on this exercise, and I will speak to Axe or Dai Atlas when we return. I have something that might work, for everyone, with their approval. Agreed?"

"Yes," Prowl nodded, grasping at any chance not to have his tac-net begin to shut down on him.

"Good. Start with the mecha seated at the table on the far side. I think the mech that just came in is here to meet them. Watch what they do, their expression and motions, what they are saying if it is loud enough for you to hear. Then tell me what you have seen."

Prowl gave him a bewildered look before focusing on the pair with an intensity that frightened most mecha.

The newcomer fetched two drinks, offering one to the smaller mecha already seated with a smile and a comment that made the other laugh. Green optics flashed, and the first mech gestured animated for the other to take the other seat. "We haven't had time to catch up in far too long! How is the new street market treating you?"

"Far better than my old location. That one was just a little oversaturated with art vendors with similar styles. And I'm working on a new design. You should come over and see it." The other replied, taking a drink and settling back in his chair.

The conversation went on like that for some time, wandering from occupational work to mutual acquaintances to a recent orchestral performance that both had attended. Finally the drinks were gone, and the small mech stood, stretching, and his frame settling into a slightly different, inviting posture. "Do you have plans for the evening?"

"I don't at the moment. But I wouldn't mind making some..." The other purred, optics dimming.

"Then you do now." The seated mech was helped to his feet, and they walked out together.

Prowl recounted, verbatim, what he had seen and heard. Every detail, every gesture and when he repeated their words he even used the same inflections.

"Very good." Thorn praised, honestly impressed with Prowl's recollection. "Now, we work through the _why_ of what they did. Start at the beginning and list the first thing you come to that confuses you." Thorn instructed.

That blank look again, but Prowl took in and vented a long, deep breath of air and gave a somewhat apologetic look. "I am not confused by any of it. I am aware that I do not perceive the majority of what they implied."

"The beginning was just two friends, very good friends, catching up after not seeing each other for a while. Do you know how I could tell they were good friends that knew each other well?" Thorn started.

"No," Prowl's single glyph of an answer contained a wealth of sub-harmonics and modifiers expressing his desire to know.

"First, there was no communication between the two when the second one arrived. The second mecha went up to the bar and ordered drinks for both of them. That means that he already knew what his friend would like. Then there was no introduction when he brought the drink over. No exchange of names, just happiness- you could see it in their optics and hear it in their voices- at greeting the other." Thorn paused for a moment to let Prowl digest that and match it up with his memories.

After a long moment, and a bit of a scowl, Prowl nodded weakly. He didn't perceive the happiness, but he added what he could to the markers for it.

"Then their conversation. They already knew a lot about each other. They had no hesitation in asking questions about how things were going. They asked about friends, family, work. Subjects far outside of a business setting. And throughout the entire conversation they were both at ease, relaxed and laughing. There were no signs of stress or anxiety." Thorn continued, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table, his own posture and field mimic what he was describing. A mech at ease in the presence of another he trusted and liked.

Again there was a long pause as Prowl struggled to make useful markers out of what he'd learned, occasionally going back to older memories to pull information in from the new perspective. He knew his own field was nothing like Thorn's. He was stressed. He wasn't comfortable. He didn't want to be there. He didn't actually feel anything towards Thorn.

But he tried. It was something to do, even if it was trivial, and that made it preferable to the alternative.

"And the end, when they left together, their actions suggest that they were planning to spend more time together, in a more private setting." Thorn explained once it Prowl focused on him once more.

"They said as much," Prowl interjected, sure Thorn was implying something he couldn't grasp the meaning of.

"There are many levels of relationship. The purely professional, such as you are accustomed to. Those you know, but do not share much personal information with. Those you consider close friends, who know much about you and that you can depend on to be there for you if you are ever in need. Sometimes relationships that reach that level go even deeper, such as theirs suggests."

"Mates," Prowl supplied the word, though it meant nothing to him other than the irritating regulation to do his best to keep the mecha stationed together.

"Sometimes. I do not think they are at that level. I think they are good friends willing to share pleasure for the night. They may be on the path that leads to a more permanent relationship, or they may keep it where it is." Thorn said gently. "Even here bonding is a serious step. Many mecha are hesitant to make that kind of commitment, even after the vorns of peace we have experienced."

Prowl let a long, silent vent out and rubbed the fingers of one hand just below his chevron to try and ease some of the tension building. "All right. Considering I have no desire for such behavior, how does this apply to me?"

"Even if you do not desire it for yourself, it is good for you to be able to recognize it in others. If you recognize it as non-threatening, you can lesson your reaction. It is a known factor then, is it not? And you can learn responses that will deflect the attention without offending or threatening others." Thorn pointed out. "The second mecha was offered a way out if he did not wish to spend the night with his companion by simply saying he had plans for the evening all ready. It would not be a lie, even if those plans had only been to spend the night alone. No hard feelings." He added, painting another scenario for Prowl as he waved for Prowl to be brought a drink.

"Learning to ignore such attention is not sufficient?" Prowl's tone was distinctly resigned, even if he could not fathom himself being in such a social situation as the couple he had studied. Once he had a function here and Thorn was no longer watching him, he could find ways to occupy himself if need be. Why was it so hard for mecha to understand what made _him_ feel good? Perhaps if he learned what they were looking for, he could script protocols to display those markers when he was working. Maybe then he'd be left alone to do his function and be content.

"For you to purely ignore it without offering any response would be offensive, and cause problems. But even if you chose to ignore it only, to ignore it you have to recognize it." Thorn said as the drink was placed in front of Prowl. "Drink that, and then we will head back to the Citadel. I think it will help your processor."

"My fuel level is at 98.3%," Prowl objected, reflexively calculating that consuming more than a sip of the cube in front of him would mean it would go to waste, or worse, come back up, given he still had some unprocessed in his tank. "I ... can take it for later?" he half offered, half asked, struggling to both comply and not waste such a precious commodity.

"It's very mild." Thorn said with a smile," A treat here. And you don't need to worry about it going to waste. But yes, you may take it with you. Drink it later. Offer it to someone else. It is yours, to do with as you please."

The dark jet stood and offered his hand to help Prowl up.

Prowl nodded and subspaced the cube. He hesitated before accepting Thorn's hand, wondering what others would interpret it as before he killed all threads along those lines and walked out with the tall black Knight. Privately, he was now convinced that if Primus was real, he hated him.

They walked in silence for a while, Thorn a companionable distance from the gray mech, giving Prowl a little time to think before he asked another question. "What do you think mecha are thinking when they see the two of us together, provided they spare the processor power to do more than note the passing of two mechs?"

Prowl's features closed off even more than usual as he struggled to find a way to answer from the perspective of mecha he didn't know anything about. In the end, all he could offer was a guess that they probably picked up enough of the truth. "That I am not comfortable and you are."

"A good conclusion, and something that outside mecha might conclude. Here in the city, they might think I was taking you in for something, since you are uncomfortable and I am a Knight. We are the main defense force of the city, and often assist the civilian peacekeepers." Thorn agreed as the Citadel came into view.

"The Citadel contains the city's prison?" Prowl asked, swift to focus on more useful things.

"Not for civilians. That is at the main city precinct. But any offense against a Knight or a Knight's mate is dealt with directly by us." Thorn explained as they entered the tower.

Prowl nodded his understanding and fell silent. He did not wish to be taken as a criminal by those who passed, but he could do little to mitigate his frame language than what he was already. He still had not managed the scripts to control his much longer but lighter wings.

Thorn led the way back to their quarters, a familiar route where all of the mecha they crossed paths with were residents of the Citadel, and did no more than offer a wave or a friendly greeting as they continued on.

As the door closed behind him Thorn reached out a hand, asking Prowl to stop. "What would be your perfect functioning?" He asked, serious and a little afraid of the answer he was going to receive.

"To once more be hardwired into Cybertron's grid, free of my frame's needs," Prowl answered calmly, his field smoothing and warming with the pleasurable peace those memories brought him. "I have never adapted to having a mecha's frame."

"Why were you pulled from there in the first place?" Thorn asked, taking a seat in the small common area of their quarters, all of his attention focused on his charge.

"The Prime, the last Prime, wanted the Tactical Miracle of Praxus," Prowl shrugged his wings, though the casual motion did nothing to hide his anger or despair. "Only he didn't want to take orders from something that looked like a machine, so he ordered me converted into a mech."

Thorn sighed, sympathy thick in his field as he worked his way through what Prowl had said, the same injustices that had caused the war that he had left behind. He had seen many hard things in his functioning, experienced many painful events, but even he had never had his very core needs challenged in such a way. "And you would still go back to that, if you could." He concluded, flinching as he delivered a rather painful truth. "There is nothing like that in New Crystal City."

"Even if there was, there is less than a 0.003% probability that I could join the city," Prowl spoke an even simpler and much harsher truth. "It is an immensely powerful position to mecha that do not understand how we perceive things such as power."

"And how do you see power?" The question was quiet, curious as Thorn tried to understand more about the mech before him.

"A variable that applies to _other_. To the ones who move about," Prowl sank softly into his deep code, into that being he had once been before his world had been shattered. "We who are part of Cybertron do not need such things. If one suffers, we all suffer. It is better for the network for all to have a little less than for one node to shut down."

It was a world Prowl could not return to, and not for the first time did Thorn wonder if they had hurt Prowl by saving his spark. If it would not have been better to never have found the shuttle and to have let the mech with him fade back to Primus, and peace. "I'm sorry that you must suffer this."

"I only suffer when I do not have a function," Prowl looked up, meeting Thorn's deep red optics with a pleading look for the Knight to grasp what he was trying to communicate, even if just a little. "I _need_ to work," his voice nearly cracked, but he managed to keep it level despite the panic-grade desperation he was feeling. "If my tac-net is not busy it shuts down."

Thorn nodded slowly. "I think I understand." He stood, opening a comm line to a fellow Knight and hoping that she was not busy at the moment. ::Demeter, may I ask a favor?::

::Of course. Need somebody to watch your charge for a while?:: her grin was audible.

::Yes. I need to go speak to Axe or Dai Atlas. As a warning, he is very distressed at the moment. I am hoping to help him, if they will agree to my plan.:: He explained.

::Sure. Have you worked out what makes him settle or feel better?:: she asked. ::On my way. Coming in the balcony.:: she added with her location.

::Anything that you can think of to engage his processor. Ask him riddles, play 20 questions with him, tell him trivia of the city. Quiz him on his companion- maybe you can learn useful things for Wing to use. If you don't mind getting stomped, pick any of the games on the shelf or in the game unit to play.:: Thorn told her, rattling off as many suggestions as he could that came to mind.

"Demeter is coming." Thorn informed Prowl as he went to open the balcony door so the mechanimal-former could enter. "She is going to keep you company while I attend a meeting."

A bright yip from the balcony announced her landing on all fours from the level above, but she transformed before walking into the room designed for mecha four to six times her height. "Hi Thorn, Prowl."

"I'll be back shortly." Thorn told them both, hoping his words were true before focusing on Prowl. "Maybe you can get Demeter to describe what the world often looks like from her point of view?" He suggested.

Prowl inclined his helm to Thorn, then focused on the microbot that barely came up to his knee joint. "My apologies for disrupting your evening, Knight Demeter."

It was the last thing Thorn heard before he ignited his thrusters and took off, headed for the highest residential tower and the quarters of the two largest Knights.

Axe greeted him at the balcony with a grin and lines of three different colors criss-crossing his frame. "I hope you don't mind talking while we scrub down."

"Of course not. I might see if I can get a sparring partner later myself." A good bout would help relieve some of the stress that was still plaguing him. A good 'face would do the same thing, if not, and there were often plenty of willing to play there as well.

He waited to be invited in still, his need not so urgent as to the transcend the line of good manners.

"Always good stress relief," Axe grinned a bit more and motioned him in, to follow. "We have asked a great deal of you and Wing in taking the strangers as your charges. No Initiate is as demanding as we have had to be about your attendance to them."

It wasn't that many paces to one of the very few private wash racks in the Citadel. It was a token of their rank, but also a practical issue. The two triple changers were much larger than most Knights and as a bonded pair they had long been accustomed to assisting each other. As Thorn turned the corner on Axe's heels, he saw Dai Atlas simply standing under the hot spray, his armor shivering, making the droplets dance.

"Now, what has come up with your charge?" Axe asked as he picked up a brush and went to work on one wide white and light blue wing.

"He needs a purpose, a function." Thorn explained, summing up what it had taken him orns to fully understand and hoping he could communicate it fully to the mecha before him. "I fear he will shut down soon if he is not given something to do."

He knew he had their attention by the sharp tension that rippled through their powerful frames.

"Has he asked to be terminated, decommissioned, deactivated, released from duty or granted mercy?" Dai Atlas's red gaze was piercing, the knowledge of a truly ancient life in and out of the Knights of Light, pinning Thorn. The Sovereign of Light had witnessed this atrocity before and it showed in the deep rumble of his voice. "Or prostrated himself with his neck exposed, or knelt on both knees to expose his spark to you or anyone else?"

"No," Thorn shook his helm. "The closest he has come to asking is the combination of two statements. That he was sparked to support the tac-net he bears, and that it begins to shut down without work to do. I believe the prospect of existing with the tac-net shut down terrifies him to his very spark."

"I would not be surprised," Dai Atlas rumbled with a deep gust of an ex-vent. "His kind, the mecha sparked for a specific high-echelon function, can rarely handle having that function taken from them."

Thorn nodded, relieved that they seemed to grasp it better than he did. "Prowl is not ready to function as a part of the city. I believe he can learn to live as one of us, but first we are going to have to calm his processors so that he can focus on something else beside the fear and stress his systems are causing him. It isn't much, to him, but I was hoping you would agree to let him take over some of the administrative duties here in the Citadel."

There was a brief moment of silent communication between the pair and Axe nodded. "We will see what we can entrust him with. I am sure there are some things he can manage. Scheduling shifts for cleanup and the like. Things that can be easily reviewed."

"I will speak to the City Council as well," Dai Atlas added as Axe began scrubbing his right wing again, working to get off a stubborn streak of black. "There is a great deal out there that requires little clearance to manage. It is not optimal, but if he was indeed sparked to support his tac-net, the most important thing will be to keep the tac-net content. If it is not content, Prowl will never be able to focus on what we are trying to teach."

"How much of the library has he read?" Axe asked curiously. "That might help keep him busy."

"All of it that I have been able to give him access to. It took him less than seven orns to sort and compile all it had to offer him." Thorn sighed, his own distress showing once more. "That was the first thing I tried. I took him mecha watching this orn, but he was so distressed it only distracted him a little."

"Because he lacks a function?" Dai Atlas wanted to know for sure.

"Yes," Thorn nodded. "I don't think he'll ever be social, but even as stressed as he was he was able to learn a little."

"That's a miracle in and of itself," Axe murmured. "We will do what we can to ease his stress over his function."

"Thank you. I should go rescue Demeter now, I think." Thorn replied, excusing himself and letting himself out the same way he had come. He dropped down to his balcony and could hear the warmth and gentle bliss in Prowl's voice before he could make out the words. He entered quietly, listening and taking in the whole scene. Prowl, relaxed and speaking to a patiently attentive Demeter sprawled nearby.

::How long has he been like this?::

::Ever since I asked him to describe paradise,:: she replied, somewhere between bemused, pleased and a touch disturbed. ::He is right. He doesn't think like any kind of mecha I know.::

Prowl glanced up and canted a wing in greeting to Thorn, but otherwise simply continued describing flowing through datastreams with a voice that most used to describe a true love.

::You can go any time you wish.:: Thorn informed her, nodding in greeting to Prowl as he settled nearby to listen and contemplate.

::I will. For now, this is fascinating,:: she grinned up at him.

With a replying smile, Thorn settled in to listen, and really _listened_ to his charge. Not just the words, but the tone, the harmonics and sub-harmonics, the exact glyphs and modifiers chosen, the frame language that Prowl was still less than perfect at controlling. It was incredibly informative, and it gave Thorn the germ of an idea to begin building a bond with his charge.

Prowl was very, very lonely. It may not be in the traditional sense, but lonely was lonely and Thorn could use that.

::Redline, please send me what you have on gestalt and host psychology. Prowl's neither, but it seems he was sparked to be part of the City of Praxus's network. Always in contact and communicating with the AIs and components of the city, and probably the planet. He's expressing loneliness at the loss. I think there might be a way to help him with minimal risk to security. If we can give him something close to what he views as paradise, he may well not want to leave.:: Thorn left the message with their chief medic to get back to him on in the morning. It was nothing that he could do anything with tonight.

Prowl's recounting wound down and he focused on Thorn. "How did the meeting go?"

"Very well," the black Knight smiled warmly. "Dai Atlas and Axe have agreed to put you in charge of much of the non-critical scheduling for the Citadel." He smiled a bit more at the way Prowl's wings perked up. "We realize it's far from a full usage of your tac-net, but we hope it would give you something to occupy it."

"It is a beginning," Prowl's voice was rich with a hope, even if it was just a tiny one, that he hadn't had before. "There are ... other ways to assist my systems under stress," he said hesitantly, his wings tucking in towards his frame. "I may dislike physical contact, the reminder that I am so restricted now, but having the fields of others close to mine is a comfort."

"A touch a bit like what you had before, when recharge was never completely shutting down?" Demeter asked.

"I still don't," Prowl said simply. "The tac-net is not designed to do so without medical intervention. It is only the parts of my processor that deal with my frame that shut down."

Thorn managed not to twitch at the concept of never recharging, never being able to stop processing at a high rate, but he couldn't stop his tanks from roiling in objection to the torture that the current situation must be for his charge. To go from being plugged into an entire planet all the time to being plugged in whenever he wasn't tending to his frame's needs to ... not even having something that qualified as a function anymore.

No wonder Prowl was unstable and likely depressed.

It was a moment more before Thorn realized that Demeter didn't seem surprised.

::You know something I don't?:: he pinged her.

::I know a lot that you don't about the real world,:: she chuckled, her tone dark in the way he had learned meant he was about to get a lesson in the brutality they'd left behind. ::They were called osa. Sparked components of a larger whole. Many cities had their core built around a city-former that could transform, but these sparks were tied into systems that never moved, never rested. Work for an AI, but when an AI wasn't good enough. Prowl's one of those sparks that took to it, and they just had to pull him, of all sparks, out. Most went insane. Sometimes it worked.::

Thorn could only sigh silently and focused on Prowl. "I did mean it when said you were welcomed in my berth anytime you wanted."

"That typically includes an expectation to interface," Prowl pointed out mildly.

Privately Thorn cursed himself for being lazy. He'd been around mecha who _knew_ him nearly his entire existence and had the same culture grilled into them until it was reflex. The Knights here had either watched him mature from a rough, aggressive mechling to the quiet, thoughtful mech he was now, or he'd watched them mature. Either way, it had been ages since someone didn't simply know the expectations from his sub-harmonics.

"My apologies, Prowl. It was not my intent to imply that I expected anything from you to recharge with me," Thorn said softly, his field full of his remorse. "I only intended to express my willingness to be company, much as you've just described wanting. A warm frame and calm field to help sooth the stress."

A tiny, shy smile curved Prowl's lip plates for a brief moment. "Then I will take you up on your offer. I do miss the subtle company."

"Mind if I join?" Demeter asked when she was sure they had settled things.

"So long as you understand it is only to recharge, I do not object," Prowl smiled briefly at her.

"Good," Thorn relaxed and stood. "Then let's go to my berth to recharge?" he offered a hand to his charge and whiled when it was accepted. It felt like real progress had been made this orn. More progress than on any other orn, and it felt good.


	3. Dancing Across the City

**Grasping a Chance 3: Dancing Across the City**  
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This place was rather calm and peaceful at night, Jazz admitted to himself as he dropped easily from one balcony to the next in the residential quarters. The citizens of the city seemed to like it there, and were friendly enough, even to strangers. The Citadel was a nice place, the Knights themselves seemed nice enough, so long as you followed their rules.

And that was where Jazz was starting to have problems. He was _bored_. He had been a mech of action his entire functioning, and now it seemed as though nothing was required of him but to play nice and to sit through the boring lessons on laws and manners and workings of the city. When he had discovered that even if he wanted to spend the rest of his functioning doing nothing but sitting on his aft because he was in no danger of starving or being turned out on the street here he had refused to believe it.

In fact, he still didn't.

Which was why he was on a self imposed mission.

He was on his way to go check on Prowl first, and then he was going to start looking in on these other Knights and some more of the Citadel. The place was huge, and he knew there were areas they had not seen yet. Time to go start looking at things that they were not being shown.

His next drop placed him on the balcony belonging to the Knight that was keeping Prowl, and he looked inside carefully. The living space was empty, neatly arranged around a focal entertainment center and with three doors leading off. One to Prowl's room, one to the Citadel, and one to Thorn's berthroom, since the place seemed to be laid out much like Wing's.

Jazz reached for the balcony door and stopped when he noticed the small pad for a lock, lit to indicate it was currently engaged. With a frown he plugged into it, noting that the code to open it from the outside was fairly simple. Still unwilling to take chances, he locked it partially open and slipped inside.

The room remained dark and quiet, open to his exploration. Most likely the door on his left was to Thorn's room. Which meant that the one on the right was Prowl's. Jazz moved carefully in that direction, nodding as the door opened before him. Prowl's did not lock, as his did not. That at least seemed to be a common factor.

The room was comfortable but largely austere, meant to be functional and not necessarily attractive. He had no doubt it pleased Prowl. What displeased Jazz in the extreme was that the berth in the room was empty and still neatly made.

Concerned, he left the room and crossed the living space to the other berthroom, intent on finding the other mech. He carefully opened the door, relieved that it wasn't locked, and spotted the mingling of pure black, gold, storm grays and red, glowing and not, on Thorn's berth. A careful, deep intake showed no signs of interfacing, or even getting excited, only two mecha that had gone into recharge snuggled peacefully on the same berth.

It was not at all like what Prowl's file indicated he was like. The mech was supposed to _hate_ company and be extremely defensive of his personal space.

Jazz stared for a while, confused as he took in the entire scene. Prowl did not seem to be distressed in any way. In fact, to judge from just looking at him Prowl was more relaxed now than Jazz had ever seen him.

With that thought in his processor and entire list of questions generated by his discovery Jazz backed out of the room and let the door close. For a moment he simply stood in the common area of the quarters, processing and deciding on his next move.

He would spend tonight finding out more, and the next chance that he had to address the issue with Prowl in anything resembling privacy he was going to pounce on the chance.

Course of action reached, Jazz let himself back out the balcony, locking the door back behind him, and started climbing upward. He didn't remember there being any locks on the public balcony, and with surveillance being as minimal as it was, that was the place to sneak in for a better look around.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

"Wing?" Jazz started, waiting until he was sure that he had the white Knight's attention as they sipped their evening energon in the common room. "I've been a good mech, right?"

"Yes," Wing twitched, curious. "I wish your skills had more use here, but we'll find something you like."

Jazz sighed and twitched, confronted once more with his failing. Every day he was reminded that everything he had learned in his functioning, mostly how to survive, had little place here in this 'prefect paradise'.

"Can we go somewhere? Out? Going to lose my processor if I stay here much longer."

He had investigated all the main levels of the Citadel, some with company, many more after dark and on his own. The Knights, at least on the surface, were just what they claimed. Even his inspection of their council room had revealed nothing to cause him to doubt what they said, after he had gotten over his initial shock at the sight.

He saw the way Wing dropped at his statement and assumed it meant they couldn't.

The quick nod said otherwise.

"Sure," Wing smiled. "There's lots of the city to see. Orchestra, opera, solo acts, dancing of all kinds, there's a big open-air market that opens in the morning, and different vendors are there in the evenings." He was starting to get excited. It had been a while since he'd gotten out too.

"Anywhere. Anything. The sooner the better." Jazz said at first, then thought about it a little more. "Don't have any credits for the market. Never been to any of those others things either, except for a little dancing."

"So how about a club?" Wing suggested quickly, his wings fluttering a bit from their tuck. "Music, dancing, good energon, sweets. My treat."

For the first time in a while there was an edge of excitement in Jazz's field. "That sounds like _fun_."

"Great. We can go tonight," Wing grinned brightly, his wings giving another flutter. "Things don't really get going until the dark cycle begins in four joors. We can grab a nap now, if you want."

"Good plan." Jazz gulped down the rest of his energon and relaxed back in his chair, willing to wait patiently until Wing had finished his now that there was a promise of going out. It wasn't long, Wing could down energon with the soldiers Jazz knew when motivated, and apparently the promise of a nap and going out was motivation. Maybe the jet was feeling just as restless as Jazz. He hadn't gotten to really fly, or get out in any way, since Jazz's arrival.

With a grin that was pure eagerness Wing offered a hand to Jazz as he stood. The grounder took it with a smile, one that did really reach his field. There was still a distinct lack of real trust in Jazz, even thought Wing had been nothing but honest so far.

"So nap, then fun." Jazz repeated as they strolled back to Wing's quarters.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz looked around at a part of the city he hadn't been in yet. This section was as ordered and pristine as every place else that he had been, but there was a slightly different feel in the air. Not bad, just alive in a different way than he was used to.

The music from the club hit him as soon as they walked in the door. Not loud enough to be uncomfortable, but strong enough for him to feel it. And he liked it. The lighting shifted, bright on the dance floor that was the center of the establishment, and gentler over the seating areas arranged around it and even dimmer on the mezzanine level on the second floor.

The floor was half full with mecha already, some alone and others with partners, and the seating area sported about the same number. As Wing led the way to a rather out of the way corner booth Jazz noted that this place was a little more upscale than it first appeared. There were mecha seated and enjoying complete meals, not just drinks and snacks like he was used to in clubs.

"Popular place?" He asked, half question and part observation.

"Yes, particularly the upper middle class," he grinned and made sure Jazz was settled before taking a seat that was almost as much with his back against the wall as Jazz's as. Though for Wing it was all about people watching, rather than protecting himself. Jazz had learned that much about his guard. Wing simply was not afraid of anyone attacking him, and given his full history, Jazz could even understand that. "Not many Knights come here. That's why you'll see a lot more folks looking at me than usual."

"But you come here." Jazz said, helm tilting to one side as he studied the dance floor, the motions of the mecha and feeling once more the general overall atmosphere. "How did you find it?"

"It's owned by the same mech, a chef, that owns one of my favorite restaurants," Wing grinned, relaxing as he brought up the menu. "When I saw the notice that he was opening a dance club with a full kitchen, I just had to check it out. Really good food, good music, good dancing, friendly patrons. Plenty of reason to come back, even if it is pretty far out of the way for me."

That was logical enough for Jazz, and sounded just like his keeper's reasoning. He leaned over to study the menu, most of the items on it completely foreign to him, the descriptions sounding like something that should be in a parts catalogue, all full of components.

"You dance when you come here, or just mecha watch and eat?"

"I dance," Wing grinned at him. "I like to have a snack and watch for a while first. I think you do too."

Jazz's answer was a soft laugh and a nod, guarded but agreeing, as he settled back in his chair to watch the dancing once more. The longer he watched the more enticing it became, the perfect outlet for all the physical and mental energy pent up in his frame with no outlet for far too long.

Wing chuckled and waved something bite-sized in front of his nose. "Have a few bites. Then we can dance. Unless you're inclined to bring someone home?"

One of the snacks disappeared into Jazz's mouth and he took his time savoring it as he contemplated the dance floor and the surrounding seating once more. "Not opposed to the idea, if something strikes my fancy. Usual habit of yours too?"

"Usually," Wing nodded, popping one of the crunchy fluff balls into his mouth. "This has been the longest my berth's been empty since I became a Knight. It's a little weird."

"Because of me?" There was an edge of surprise in Jazz's tone. If the winged Knight enjoyed interfacing that much, surely there must have been some way for him to get some. Jazz didn't think he had been _that_ much trouble.

Wing shrugged lightly, really just a flick of his nacelle pinions. "Between the noise, distraction and how hard I shut down afterwards, I wouldn't notice if you needed me. So I haven't, and I won't until you don't need me anymore." He popped a second crunchy fluff ball into his mouth. "Duty comes first."

"The more I learn of your functioning, the more boring it sounds." Jazz commented as he helped himself to another one of the snacks.

"The existence of a Knight is not for most. It is not an easy one," Wing agreed easily. "Not even all who believe they want it are selected for training. Bearing a Great Sword is an honor, but it is also a duty that goes far beyond skills that can be trained."

"Don't worry, no ambition here." Jazz replied, optics adhered to the dancefloor and fingers twitching to the music that had started, the beat fast and catching. His entire field rippled with the desire to _move_.

Wing simply laughed and stood, taking the last two treats. He popped one in his mouth and offered the other along with a hand to his charge. "Let's dance before you explode."

Jazz took the offered treat and hand as he bounced to his feet, following Wing's lead out into the dance floor. It wasn't hard to catch on to the simpler moves that he had been observing, and he hadn't been entirely idle since he had been released from the medical restrictions. He still hadn't pushed his new frame and systems yet, wasn't entirely sure how far they would go or what kind of strain they would withstand. But what he was doing here on the dancefloor was far easier than jumping balconies and scaling walls. And this was a legitimate form of recreation, compared to what he had been doing.

It was also chance for him to get a feel for another level of the city, the mecha that were not the bottom, but not the top either, if he was reading this right. The feel certainly matched what Wing had told him of middle class. Mecha that worked for what they had, but had enough that they were able to go out and enjoy themselves without overreaching their means.

With that in mind Jazz stepped up his moves, just to see what kind of reaction he would get from nearby dancers. He saw and felt Wing keep up, though he was struggling. The Knight knew his frame, but he didn't dance that often. Not like Jazz at any rate.

The change and charge in those around them came quickly. Attention centered on Jazz, space was given and optics watched. Some curious, others fascinated, a few jealous and more than a couple burning with early desire.

Pleased with the reaction and flattered with the attention, Jazz toned it down a little, matching his current dance partner more. "This is fun." He said, a true smile that blazed clear to his visor lighting his face for the first time since he had woken in the city.

"It is," Wing's grin was matching and bright, though it was far from unusual to see him pleased. "I'll have to take you to a few more clubs."

"Or I can," a mid-sized deep blue and forest green grounder, lithe and with bright blue optics, slid up behind Jazz close enough to be intimate, but not quite touching.

Jazz glanced over his shoulder, studying the other mech from helm to pede with a half smile, the light in his expression dimming some. "Afraid I won't be taking you up on that."

"Now why is that?" The mech asked, his tone sultry and field promising pleasure. "Knights don't play with the rest of us. I can show you a better time than that jet."

Jazz caught the flash of tension in Wing, the conflicting impulses to step aside and to defend.

"Prior commitments. I'm here for a dance now though." Jazz offered. One wouldn't hurt, and the entire point of going out had been to burn some energy and have some fun. He'd be a good mecha and go home with Wing, but surely the jet trusted him enough to let him play on his own under supervision.

He felt the Knight move away without a single protest. Yes, his good behavior was earning the rewards he wanted. Wing may not be going far, but he was smoothly moving away without even trying to stop Jazz being with someone else.

Arousal flickered higher in the stranger as they both shifted their rhythm to match the other. "I'm Wild Winds."

Jazz bumped the difficulty up a notch and couldn't help the small flare of pleasure when the other mech matched it with ease. "Jazz." He replied, the introduction coming easily.

He could appreciate the arousal of a good dance partner, and he could really appreciate the way Wild Winds managed to keep his hands to himself despite everything about him screaming that he didn't want to.

With a deep purr of his performance engine, Wild Wind pushed their movements faster, up to the level that Jazz recognized meant that this mech won contests, and often. Hands came close to Jazz's waist, asking if he'd join in. To get any more complicated really did require the contact.

Jazz hesitated, but only for a moment before he moved into the touch, accepting the contact and the next level. This was playing with fire, and it was fun. The grin that split his face was part enjoyment and part dare, challenging the other grounder to do his best. Wild Wing grinned and pulled Jazz closer, their frames sliding against each other, causing the occasional spark and more than a few revving engines among the audience.

Despite the pace, the twists, dips, shimmies and spins, Jazz kept up. It was getting harder though, each time one of them upped the ante. He could feel the heat in his frame from the exertion, feel it in Wild Wind's too. But the overriding sensation Jazz kept picking up with the heavy teek of arousal and a growing ping from his processors that this mech was becoming less likely to accept no for an answer.

To give up or to keep going...the question came in a flash as Jazz's turn to up the ante came around. And just as quickly came his decision. One more time, just to push the boundaries a little and hold on to this feeling of _alive_ that he had been craving for one more turn around the floor.

Then he would call it quits.

Not that there was any sign of his plans in the challenging smirk he on his face.

When Wild Wind took the lead back, he pulled Jazz close. "You are quite the tease," the voice was a soft rumble. "And far too good for that Knight."

"I wouldn't be any fun if I wasn't." Jazz pointed out as he followed his partner's every move, his reply just as soft and still with the teasing lilt to it. "But Wing is quite entertaining, even if he can't dance as well as me."

"Entertaining even after lights go out?" he rumbled deeply, tipping his helm to brush a kiss along Jazz's cheek.

Jazz's frame stiffened at the touch, and when the lead changed once more he kept it to the same level, signaling an end with this last pass, and with his reply. "I'm sure he is, if I was interested."

"A hot number like you not interested in some hot action?" Wild Wind nearly lost the beat before he took the lead back mid-song and pulled Jazz close. "I can change that," he rumbled and pressed his lips against Jazz's.

It was Jazz's turn to almost stumble in shock, and then anger rippled through his field fast and hot as he twisted free with growl. The moment he was free he turned, already on the attack, but a hand from behind caught his arm as a soothing field enveloped him.

"Calm, Jazz," Wing's voice was liquid peace in his audials as Wing's other arm wrapped around his waist. "He went too far, but that's no excuse to hurt him."

Wild Wind simply stared at them, his optics wide with shock.

Jazz went still at the touch, though growled again low and dangerous, before Wing's words were fully processed. The field surrounding his own helped even more, smoothing out the rough anger and smothering the fire as he vented sharply.

There was no apology in optics or stance as Jazz's frame straightened and he glared at the other mech.

"What kind of mech _are_ you?" Wild Wind hissed, his armor fluffing out slightly in anger.

"The kind who's free to turn you down," Wing said evenly, though Jazz could feel the willingness to fight for the statement to be true as the white jet gradually shifted around Jazz to stand between them. "Go find a willing berthmate for the night."

Wild Wind growled, but his engine stilled when Wing's hands dropped to the two swords at his hips. Like the Great Sword on his back, they were peace-bound, but no one doubted that they could be drawn in an instant if the young Knight decided to. It was a courtesy, a social signal, not a physical barrier.

"Who are you to him that you can speak for him?" Wild Wind demanded even as he took a step back and spread his hands a bit in a signal for peace.

"Jazz is my charge."

The statement, so evenly delivered, caused a ripple through the audience even as it parted for two private security mecha to step up.

"Is there a problem here, Knight?" One of the guards instinctively looked to Wing for what was going on.

"No," Wing relaxed and smiled at him. "Only a small misunderstanding and a slightly overprotective guardian," he said with something close to an embarrassed effect. "My apologies for the disruption."

With that Wing turned, inclined his helm to the guards, and put a firm but light hand on Jazz's arm. Despite it, Jazz could feel that the touch was guiding, not leading. "I think it would be best to continue our evening elsewhere."

The statement was met with no resistance from his charge, Jazz pointed ignoring everything but the guiding hand on his arm as they entered the cool night air. There Jazz did stop, once the music had faded, and vented as he gathered himself.

"I'm sorry," Wing apologized. "He didn't seem like he'd go that far without encouragement."

Jazz's armor ruffled and settled. "I said no nicely. He would have deserved what he was going to get if he hadn't backed off when you stepped in."

"Yes, but you would not have deserved the punishment that likely would have resulted," Wing said gently. "This isn't a military base, Jazz. The law is different. If you had hit him, there would have been a punishment."

The mech at Wing's side grunted dismissively. Jazz was used to punishments. He doubted whatever would have resulted would be any worse than many that he had already endured. "Going to take me back home then?" He finally grumbled.

"Well, I was really hoping we could both burn some energy," Wing shifted uneasily. "I like being this sedentary about as much as you do. I know some other clubs. Not as nice, but ones that are more used to Knights and, well, it wouldn't take much for everybody to know not to touch you because you're my charge. It doesn't mean you're 'facing me, just that I'm responsible for you and I'm not going to tolerate anyone getting too close."

The irritated edge in Jazz's field faded a bit at the suggestion. "I'd like to stay out. And I don't mind. That place was a lot nicer then I'm used to anyway."

"Mind if we fly? We can be there in a breem instead of a couple joors," Wing offered a loose embrace Jazz could step into or reject.

Jazz stepped forward with a shrug. He figured Wing wasn't about to drop him after all the trouble. Or was he?

"I'm hoping this isn't your plan to finish me off." He commented.

Wing snickered and helped Jazz arrange himself for a good grip and easy balance. "If I was planning to finish you off, I'd go for something a lot less penance-worthy than dropping you from a height."

"Penance-worthy?" Jazz repeated once they lifted off, apparently not phased at being suspended in the air with nothing but the arms of another mech and his own grip to keep him there.

"Knights have two categories of punishment for infractions," Wing said easy, his voice pitched to be heard over the rush of air and engines. "Penalties are for minor disobedience, acts against the Code of Light and orders but are not actual crimes. They tend to be in the form of extra duty shifts, extra clean up duties, brig time on occasion, but it all smelts down to minor acts and minor punishments. For acts that are actual crimes, there are penances where you have to make reparations to the universe and balance for what you did."

Confusion flooded Jazz's field as he tried to wrap his processor around the idea of balancing things with the universe, like it was some sentient being with a ledger. "Sounds a little out there to me."

"It's just how Knights do things," Wing said easily as the city rushed below them. "It won't apply to you unless you decide to be a Knight."

Jazz's laughter was clear even over the rush of the wind. "Like I said before, no worries, mech. Someone would kill me first, I think." His attention shifted as they started to descend, trying to pick out their destination. It didn't take much. It was a club, and definitely closer to what Jazz was used to. The music was more about the beat, there were people everywhere outside and the area seemed a little less well-heeled, though it was hardly downtrodden. Nothing in this city seemed to be downtrodden, or even that close. There still weren't that many airframes, but as Wing landed the difference became palatable.

In the first club Wing's swords made him the center of attention in a slightly uneasy way. They weren't used to his kind, even if he did visit on occasion. Here he was greeted with grins, knowing winks and one proposal to spend the night together that Wing politely turned to the mech's surprise before they made it into the club itself.

Jazz chuckled, suddenly more at ease. This was a game he could play, and this was clearly Wing's territory. "You must come here to play much more often." He commented, frame already twitching to the music.

"Definitely. The Del Sarineni is a treat, and usually a group of us go together," Wing nodded as he guided Jazz onto the dance floor, a space that really amounted to everywhere except for a few tables and the bar. "This is the closest club to the Citadel, so it sees a lot of the younger and more social Knights."

Wing made a sudden, energetic wave, drawing Jazz's attention to a corner table where a glossy black Knight with glowing red and glittering gold was sitting serenely in the chaos while a decidedly unhappy looking Prowl was doing his level best to see everything and not notice all the looks he was getting.

With a chirp of excitement Jazz left Wing's side and bounced to the table, the atmosphere already affecting his mood and washing away the shadows from the last club. He pulled out the empty chair without asking and plopped down next to Prowl with a grin. "Thorn. Prowl."

"Jazz," Prowl murmured, his gaze flicking to the definitely happy mech he could teek.

Thorn chuckled, amused even if his charge was not and greeted the newcomers. "Jazz. I see Wing got you out. Or you got him to go out. And if was the latter, I'm sure it didn't take much convincing on your part."

"Not much at all," Wing laughed easily as he grabbed a chair and sat down with the others. "We both needed a night out and some action." He spared a look for Prowl and the way the mech had his wings tucked as tightly as possible to his frame.

"Social lesson. How to identify emotion and intent," Thorn explained their presence, since neither was likely to be here on their own.

"He likes to legally torture me," Prowl responded dryly.

"It's not that bad!" Jazz protested with a laugh, looking Prowl up and down before jumping to his feet and holding his hand out. "How about seeing if Thorn will let you take a break? Come dance."

Prowl gave him a wary look, staring at the hand for almost too long before he responded to the gentle nudge of Thorn's field and accepted it. "You are aware that I have no idea how to dance."

"We'll start simple. And I know that you can _count_." Jazz said, delighted that his offer had been accepted as he led Prowl to a corner of the dancefloor that was less crowded in an attempt to keep the other mech from feeling less crowded and to protect his sensor wings while he was focused on other things.

The current song ended and switched to something a little slower, and Jazz smiled. "Good. Now listen- 1-1, 1-2,1-3,1-4, 2-1" each count was accompanied by a single step for Prowl to mirror as he was the center of Jazz's attention.

Thorn watched for a moment, slightly surprised as he looked at Wing. "Were they telling the truth when they said they were not involved with each other? I didn't think he was going to accept, even with the encouragement."

Wing watched the pair for a long while, noting how easily Prowl took to the instruction, but even with songs that typically meant contact, he reflexively flinched away when Jazz did more than the lightest brush against his arms.

"I think they were telling the truth," Wing said, though his tone spoke of uncertainty as well. "You have been pushing him to socialize, and no matter how little they knew each other before, they are each other's most common ground now. They came from the same culture. Think about if you and Marwir were stranded on their world. It wouldn't take long before you grew close, simply because it's the only familiar thing you have, the only person you know understands how you'd been trained to think like and what you expect of the people around you."

Thorn hummed in agreement, optics still centered on the pair on the corner of the floor. "He is getting better, on many levels. Still a long way to go, but he no longer assumes that every mecha that so much as compliments him is after something. The first one to say something about how smoothly the scheduling has run since he took over almost crashed him, I think. Though at least he recognized it as not an interface advance right away. It still shocked him."

Wing snickered. "Has he managed to take any compliments gracefully?"

Thorn shrugged a wing. "Not by our standards, but most of the Knights have some grasp of how under socialized he is and are good about giving him some grace. It's a real help as he struggles through the motions. Even when he does a terrible job of accepting a compliment, when he's trying, he gets the right feedback to encourage him to keep trying."

"How much has the duty helped?" Wing asked as he watched his own charge, deeply relieved at how relaxed and happy he seemed. He did think that Prowl was a little less pent up than the first library encounter.

"More than I dared hope for," Thorn admitted. "It seems like recharging with fields around helps him too, especially when we manage not to touch him physically."

"He is adjusting then, even if it is only slowly." Wing commented, optics focused on his own charge and a small frown gracing his features as he studied Jazz once more. "I wish I could say the same for Jazz. On the outside he seems as though he is adjusting fine, but there was almost an incident at the first club I took him to tonight."

"How serious an incident?" Thorn focused on his friend, though he never lost track of his charge.

"In his defense, the other mecha didn't take no for an answer, but Jazz was ready to tear into him before I stepped in. And his field...He was ready to commit violence, and not stop until he was done." It was a level of danger that Wing had not seen in his charge before, and had started some new questions in the Knight's processor.

"He is fresh from a war that began before he was created," Thorn reminded Wing gently. "It will take more than a decaorn for him to completely stand down. By all rights, it should take him vorns. I haven't teeked the same in Prowl, but he has not made it a secret that he was trained to respond first with flight, then to fight if he's cornered. He completely rejects the idea that the war won't come here and he needs to be prepared for it. I can see it in him. He hasn't challenged it since the first debate, but he's no closer to believing that we're any safer here than he was in Iacon."

White wings fluttered then settled against Wing's back, the task before him suddenly slipping into much clearer focus. "A long time. This seems to help though. Maybe we should consider arranging more meetings like these." He nodded over to where Jazz was still working with Prowl, sometimes slipping away to show off more advanced versions of the basic moves he was teaching the storm gray mech but always returning.

"It definitely does the two of you good," Thorn said thoughtfully, his deep red optics softening when he focused on Prowl. "While I can't call that happy, Prowl's definitely taking to socializing better with Jazz as his focus. It might do us all well to let their relationship grow. I do not agree with Dai Atlas' belief that keeping them separated most of the time is the best choice."

"He fears they will plot to escape." Wing said, then sighed. "He probably wouldn't be pleased with this arrangement, even though we are both sitting here watching them."

Thorn hummed as he watched their charges dance. One was eager, energetic and delighted. The other had balance and an incredible ability to pick up moves by watching, but no desire to be there. "I think it might be time for our dear leader to really meet Prowl in as close to full tactical mode as we can manage."

Wing made a face, but nodded in agreement. His creator might be in for a little bit of a surprise, even if he thought he knew what he was dealing with. "From what you have said, it would be good for Prowl. And for Dai. This will distract Jazz for a while, and if taking him out every orn is the solution to getting him to focus and pay attention during his studies, I can manage that."

It was a solution that Wing actually didn't mind at all. And while he was at it, he should drag Jazz through one of the markets, credits to spend or no. It would show the new mech another side of the city and its citizens, and if Jazz saw something that he wanted, Wing could point him in the direction of some of the extra chores where mecha could earn spending credits around the city. He had no doubt that he and Jazz had that much in common. The more practical and application-apparent the lesson, the easier it sank in.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it," Thorn chuckled and he pinged Dai Atlas a request for a meeting of several joors at the Sovereign's leisure in the next few orns. Then they settled in to watch their charges in relative silence.


	4. The Darkness in the City

**Grasping a Chance 4: The Darkness in the City**  
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Wing watched his charge as they got their morning energon and settled down. He did his best to catch any subtle underlying clues he could teek, but there just wasn't anything to pick up. Except after last night, he knew there should be.

"Did you enjoy going out?" Wing asked as an opening.

There was a subtle brightening in Jazz's field as he sipped on his energon. "Yeah, a lot. Thanks."

Jazz's social had improved a little, the mech now offering words of thanks where appropriate, and even more important, meaning them when he spoke them.

Wing smiled in reply, warm and full of how pleased he was. "I don't know about going out even night, but I'm sure we can manage most nights, if you'd like."

"That'd be good." For everyone involved, as far as Jazz was concerned. "Liked the second place better than the first." He added.

"I'll keep that in mind when selecting," Wing chuckled, then turned serious. "But if you want any more freedom than I gave you last night, we will have to come to an understanding about your inclination towards violent reactions."

Just as quickly the ease in Jazz's field was gone. "I turned him down nice." He growled. "You said yourself he had no right to push like he did."

Jazz could still taste the other mech on his lips, could still feel the disgust rising in his systems. The memory alone was enough for the aggression to start rising again, even if there was no target for it in the common room of the Citadel of Light.

"That does not make violence the correct response," Wing tried to be gentle about it. "To shove him away, or even punch him once, that may have gotten you a lecture, but little else. But what you had in mind… Tell me you didn't intend to break every strut he had and make me believe it."

"It was a possibility." Jazz admitted. Anything that would have left the other mech begging for mercy until he was in stasis would have satisfied Jazz. "He wouldn't have done it again."

"No, I don't expect he would have," Wing sighed. "Such a reaction would also keep you from seeing the outside of the jail for at least a century. It's not worth it."

Jazz shrugged again. "Would have been worth it." He replied, answer almost too casual. There was no repentance in his voice, and not a bit of worry in his field at the possible consequences.

Wing could only stare at him and wonder if this was what a glitch felt like. The words literally would not compute. He knew what each meant, what the string of them meant, but put together in context he couldn't do more than stare at his charge and wonder what had gone so wrong with the mech that he could think that.

Jazz finished off the cube of energon, watching Wing gape at him in silence. He was saying nothing but the truth. He wasn't afraid of anything that they might do to him. Compared to the war, there was nothing here that could be that bad as a punishment.

"Jazz, _why_ is it worth it?" Wing finally managed to get his linguistic center to create a sentence for what he was feeling.

"I'd feel better. He'd probably think twice before pulling something like that again. And from what you've said, the worse thing that would happen if they locked me up here is that I would deactivate from boredom." Cool gaze studied Wing. "Or do you have interesting punishments for your criminals?"

"Reparations can be, but the interesting punishments are mostly reserved for Knights, not civilians," Wing managed to answer. "Give up a century or more of freedom, just to hurt someone that kissed you?"

"What's freedom?" Jazz demanded, leaning closer to Wing. "No one is _really_ free. Freedom is an illusion. So what does it matter if I spend it wandering around, or locked up somewhere? I'd have nothing to lose, and at least I'd have the satisfaction of beating the slag out of him."

Wing couldn't help the disturbed waver of his field before he dropped his optics a bit. "It matters to me. I want you to be happy, and I know you wouldn't be happy locked in a cell for a long time."

It was Jazz's turn to pause, to stare in confusion. "Why do you care?" he finally asked.

No one had cared for him in a very long time. So long in fact that he often wondered if anyone had ever really cared about him. All anyone cared about when it came to him was what he could for them and what they could get from him. If he gave them what they wanted, he got what he needed to survive. Even now.

Golden optics cycled in surprise. "What kind of ... I don't suppose that anyone's cared about you in a long time," he murmured sadly. "It's not like that here, Jazz. It really isn't. I care because it's the _right_ thing to do. Because it makes me feel good to know I helped someone do more than just survive." His optics flicked up to meet Jazz's, bright and earnest. "I may not have seen Cybertron, but my creators are _old_. Dai Atlas served under Vector Prime. Axe isn't that much younger. They taught me that a society is no better than how it treats those most in need. So I care about what happens to you because citizen or not, you are living in this city and you _matter_."

Wing waited quietly for Jazz to process all of that, the reactive mech unusually quiet, his field pulled in close but every line of the bright frame screaming of tension and distrust.

Jazz didn't understand. He couldn't bring himself to believe what Wing was saying. Not yet. So he shrugged, dismissing the words on the surface with his actions, but not forgetting them by any means.

"What did you want to hear?" Wing asked when it became apparent that Jazz wasn't going to speak.

Almost spitefully Jazz shrugged, sulking like a sparkling.

"Then what were you expecting to hear?" Wing cocked his helm as he studied his charge.

"The truth." Jazz finally snapped. "That I am just another thing, to be used and discarded."

Wing considered his charge for a long time before he responded. "All right. Say that is true. You saw the amount of damage you took, what you looked like when I found you. What do we have to gain by repairing you? I would think it's obvious we don't need the warm frames."

"I don't know." Jazz finally admitted, clearly frustrated.

Wing extended his hand across the table, palm up. "I don't know how to prove my intentions to you, or make you believe what this city is, but I'm going to keep trying to show you that I told you the truth. I want you to succeed here. I want you to be happy and contribute to society. What do you want to see?"

"The darkness. There's darkness everywhere. I just haven't been able to find it here yet." Jazz replied, his voice soft enough to be a whisper. He watched Wing shiver, something that drew attention to the white Knight from all over the room. Comm lines buzzed and Jazz ruthlessly hacked the barely encrypted transmissions, half surprised to realize that Wing was initiating most of them.

::Darkness in the city, among us, that I can show him?:: Wing's transmission went to at least dozen recipients, all of them designations that Jazz recognized as Knights.

::The jail,:: Thorn replied from somewhere.

::Penance rooms,:: Marwir suggested. ::Sovereign can tell you when one's going to be used.::

::Rehab center,:: Axe prompted. ::If he's as military as we think, the hospice tower.::

Other replies were some variation on those four, and there was a lull before Dai Atlas responded.

::In two orns Shattercoil faces a penance for fighting.:: His tone was grave. ::She did a great deal of damage to Steelspark and has agreed to allow your charge to witness.::

None of it made much sense to Jazz, so he waited, still as a statue, for Wing to tell him what was going on. Wing made another series of comm calls, this time to the locations mentioned and arranged to visit.

"We can visit the city jail now, and the hospice tower this afternoon," Wing shifted uneasily, uncomfortable with the destinations. "The substance abuse rehabilitation center agreed to tomorrow, and the orn after that there is a penance. A fairly bad one, that she's agreed you can witness."

Jazz nodded in understanding. "Okay." He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to see, but he had nothing to lose by going to look, and once he knew where they were, he could check back unannounced to see what they were really like.

Wing drew in a deep vent and let it out, settling his systems before he stood and offered Jazz a hand. "Fly, drive, public transport or walk?"

"You didn't drop me last time, so I trust you won't this time." Jazz said with a touch of humor as he took the offered hand and got to his feet. He received a warm, bright smile and pleased lap of Wing's field for it as the Knight led them to the balcony and made sure Jazz had a good grip around his neck and his own arms were securely around Jazz's waist before taking off.

Once more the city flashed below them, Wing seeming to have a reflex for flying high near the ceiling to make any kind of distance.

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Dai Atlas and Axe walked the training hall containing several simulators to train Knights in skills that could not be replicated in the real world, or at least not on this world. To no surprise, Thorn was waiting outside one of the doors, a room that contained a large battle sim.

"Thank you for your time," Thorn inclined his helm. "I wished to have you experience what my charge is capable of. I know of no other way to explain him."

The Knight leader inclined his helm. "I will admit to being the slightest bit curious about it myself. This is certain to be an interesting experience."

"I look forward to seeing it," Axe added, shifting his Great Sword slightly on his back before following Thorn inside. Prowl was already seated, cables connecting him to the mainframe and his frame the locked stillness of one immersed in a system. One screen showed his vital signs and processor use, which listed a seemingly normal forty percent. Another listed the systems and files he was accessing, which scrolled by too fast to read easily.

The two older mechs regarded Prowl for a moment before moving to take their places. Dai Atlas flipped one wing to get it out of the way as he sat down, reaching for the cables. His mate settled next to him, also beginning the process of hooking into the system. Once the last cables were connected, two pairs of optics went dark as the pair turned their attention to the sim world.

They were presented with a request whether they wished to be the offensive or defensive side of a major assault and a small text from Prowl stating that he had no preference as to which they ran first.

After some discussion between them, Dai Atlas and Axe replied that they would be defending for the first round. Axe sent a message back to Prowl, asking if the younger mech had any preferences as to setup before they got started.

_Thorn set up all basic parameters._ Prowl texted back. _Defender selects their stronghold. I plan to defend Iacon._

After a bit more discussion, the older pair chose an isolated fortress as their stronghold. Not the original Citadel on Cybertron, but a true fortress built to withstand invading forces. The defenders were the Knights, accurate in abilities and weapons, swords, polearms, and the rare projectile weapons. Once they were settled, they were allowed to watch Prowl's selection processes, something he had not gotten to do to their setting up.

They watched in fascination and careful consideration as Prowl phrased what he was allowed of his target, then informed that he would have one hundred and seventy eight mecha, no more than one gestalt and no more than fifty-three airframes in all. The gestalt was selected first, and it wasn't any of the combat-heavy teams on the roster. Though Stavitel would be scary enough, it was a gestalt after all, it was a ground-based construction team.

~Definitely a clever one,~ Axe noted to his mate, watching with critical processors as Prowl made his preparations.

~Indeed. It will be most interesting to see how this plays out.~ Dai Atlas was watching with processors even more critical than Axe's, making careful note of everything Prowl did as the preparations were finalized. Prowl's forces seemed unusually balanced for a strike force, and heavy on engineers and scouts. Both former Generals knew he had a plan for taking the fortress, and it wasn't a frontal assault.

~Interesting that Thorn has handicapped him to such an extent,~ Axe murmured with the first hint of uneasiness as they each settled into their controls. ~A third of our forces, and barely over a fifth of our airframes. This will either be the easiest battle we've fought, or one pit of a surprise.~

~I'm angling for the second,~ Dai Atlas rumbled. ~Where are his forces?~

~We are most definitely going to have to be on our guard,~ Axe murmured as the final preparations ended and all three participants received a notice that that simulation was about to begin. ~Prowl may be even sneakier than his designation implies.~

There was a pause. ~Are we going to play honorable, or to win?~

~He's planning to play sneaky, so why not return the favor. We play to win, love,~ Axe replied. Affection brushed his mate's thoughts before the black Knight turned his attention to the simulation.

They smoothly ordered their Knights to battle readiness, putting three times as many sentries on duty as usual and increasing the rolling patrols within the fortress as well as air patrols outside it. Yet as the first orn turned to night, their opponent had not made an appearance, not even a scout was spotted. They knew he was there, but where on the board was a question they had yet to answer.

Despite the lack of enemy activity, neither was fooled in the least. They had seen such lulls in activity during their time as Generals, when the races they were exterminating had attempted to lull them into a false sense of security. Both waited, coordinating everything between them, prepared as best they could for whatever surprises Prowl was preparing.

Three orns of game-time passed and then the pit exploded around them. Explosions detonated on the fortress walls, under it, inside it. Over all the yells and chatter of the Knights moving to put out fires and secure the breaches, one glyph repeated with rising terror.

_Gestalt_

~Definitely a sneaky glitch!~ Axe commented as he moved toward where the gestalt was _in the center of their fortress_. There were no combiners among the Knights, and only the black Knight and his mate had any actual experience with gestalt teams.

~Agreed,~ Dai Atlas grunted in response, moving to coordinate the fire teams and keep watch out for other enemies. It wasn't hard. Now that Prowl had moved, he committed everything he had to the strike. The only mech of note that they couldn't catch sight of was Prowl himself, but his comm chatter was loud and clear.

Prowl might not have been a front line commander, but he was heavily involved. Despite the chaos of the battle both Knights did keep tabs on Prowl's processor usage, which was now down at 2.3% despite the activity he was obviously coordinating. Later, when they had a moment, the Knights would also realize that Prowl wasn't giving micromanaging orders. He was active and the dataflow he coordinated was massive, but he trusted his soldiers to take his orders and use common sense with them.

A profanity that would have made any of their Knights stare at the two giants in shock floated through their bond, though it was up for debate which of the two actually uttered it. Prowl was proving even sneakier than they'd anticipated, and a shrewd tactical planner. Despite themselves, the pair were impressed. They would be even more so when they had the chance to really dissect the younger mech's tactics from his logs.

As soon as Dai Atlas's distinctive frame came in clear view, a flurry of commands went out targeting him and reminded the old mech of Prowl's first reaction to him; outright fear. It was hard to tell if that fear was the reason though, since targeting such a powerful war-frame and known leader were also sound tactics.

Dai Atlas took a step and felt the ground under him give way in a huge explosion. Only moments after he entered freefall, the gap he'd fallen through closed to blackness. Jagged metal clawed at him as he tried to ignite his thrusters, but it was easier said than done as he tumbled.

This time the heated profanity definitely came from Dai Atlas; it was a choice phrase he'd picked up from his own mentor and in a language that definitely wasn't Cybertronian. It took the old mech several dozen long nanokilks to even get his bearing, scanners sweeping for the attack he _knew_ was coming. He flared as much wing as he dared, knowing the sensitive appendages would be a target for anyone who knew fliers, and in a hole like this there was real danger of getting one snagged. A snagged wing was something he could ill afford in a fight.

His sensors pinged the platform he was rushing towards and he almost had enough time to orient himself to land well before something big and heavy lunged from the darkness just above him and knocked him into another spin that ended with him crashing hard on his back with a very large beast-former tearing into him.

Many levels above him Axe wasn't having much better luck. He had numbers and skill on his side, but his opponent seemed to be ready for every move he made. The moment he gave an order, shifts were made in the enemy ranks, _then_ Prowl's voice began giving additional ones.

A bright red flashing marker in his game HUD informed Axe that his spark-bond had been broken.

_That_ caused a slight hitch in the black mech's actions. Neither of them had ever expected that might happen. This mech Prowl was even more of a shrewd tactical processor than either of them had ever anticipated.

That hitch was all the gestalt needed to smash him into the ground, then step on him, crushing armor by sheer mass on top of it. As Axe went off line, he joined his mate in watching as the computer did its best to continue fighting on their behalf. It made good use of the Knights, and in the end Prowl's forces had taken terrible losses, but he had won.

~_Very_ impressive,~ Dai Atlas commented, still reeling from the shock of having lost a battle simulation for the first time in only Primus knew how long.

~I am _very_ glad this mech was not coordinating the attacks on the Citadel before we left Cybertron,~ Axe replied feelingly. ~We might never have made it off the planet if he had been.~

His older mate hummed agreement. ~We'll pull out all the stops in the next round, love.~

~Agreed,~ Axe rumbled, watching as Prowl selected the forces he wish to defend Iacon with. He had a dozen specialized teams organized when he pinged them to please select their forces, so the system would determine what he had to work with.

This round, rather than Knights, Axe and Dai Atlas chose forces more like the armies they had once commanded. Forces specialized for taking cities. Having a better idea this time of what Prowl was capable of, they were taking no chances. The system denied none of their requests, including for three full war-frame gestalts.

The moment they set their numbers and ranks, Prowl received an abbreviated and only mostly accurate rendition of it and his final limits. Once more the Knights noted how much smaller a force he was permitted. It was a particular disadvantage given Prowl was now trying to defend a largely civilian and spread out city. Prowl took longer in setting up this time, and the Knights were allowed to watch every single move he made as if they had a spy in his highest ranks. The basics were good. There was no denying it. A solid, defendable border, martial law, curfew ... as the list became longer of the elements Prowl took control over they watched the percentage of his processor being used slowly creep up into the high twenties before leveling out with every single dataline in the city routed directly through him.

~This mech would have been creepy-scary in the military,~ Axe observed. ~Depending on which General he served under. I can think of a lot of uses for a processor like that, not all of them honorable.~

~We are going to have a fight on our hands this time, too,~ his mate replied after a moment.

~What I'm more concerned about is the fact that he apparently did run the war effort for one side, and they were still losing,~ Dai Atlas commented before he and Axe both focused on the scenario where they were the aggressors.

The black and gold mech paused to consider that. ~Makes me wonder what was going wrong. Not curious enough to get really into it, but still curious.~

~Makes me wonder just what kind of tactical genius he was up against, or the idiot that he was giving tactics too,~ Dai Atlas grumbled as he began the opening gambit, sending his air forces to bomb the city while the gestalts assaulted the walls. ~He knows how to run a battlefield, that's obvious enough.~

They knew Prowl had two gestalts among his forces, but they didn't appear. In fact, nothing appeared but civilians scattering from the unexpected assault.

~He's got another sneaky surprise in for us, I can feel it in my struts,~ Axe grumbled, moving to support his mate and advancing the forces under his command.

~That's a given,~ Dai Atlas agreed, wary but unwilling to pull back without more proof, or at least a solid idea where the surprise was going to come from. Their forces swept into an industrial section, facing the same lack of resistance. With no warning one of the gestalts commed a distress. The machinery, unsparked, without apparent controllers, was attacking. Loaders and heavy transports capable of moving a gestalt crushed soldiers under wheels or treads, grabbed them and tossed them entire blocks. Welding machines cut armor like it was nothing. Factory runners grabbed mecha and rushed off to toss them in a smelter. The equipment that built mecha was now working to take it apart.

Axe made a surprised sound, pulling his forces out of that area and giving orders to target the weak points of the equipment, or their control units if possible.

~_There's_ one tactic we never considered,~ the black Knight grunted.

~This one takes lateral processing to a new level,~ Dai Atlas growled in the mixture of admiration and frustration a good opponent created in him. He growled again when he realized he was once more a central target, though at least this time the gestalts seemed to share his top billing.

::Gestalts incoming!:: someone commed in an open broadcast along with the vector just in time for Axe and Dai Atlas to each dodge the blaster fire aimed at them from the pair. Overhead Prowl's air forces made their appearance, diving in mass from well above the ceiling their opponents had maintained and shredding wings across the sky before they switched to laying down fire on the ground forces before sweeping upwards again.

City defensive batteries, things that no sane commander would dare fire inside a city swiveled inward from their normal positions and open up on the attacking forces.

~I have to admit I'm glad we never had to face him in a real battle,~ Axe observed. ~He could be a great asset on the off chance that our city is ever found.~ A snarl escaped as a shot went through his wing, though not badly enough to ground him.

~Or our greatest nightmare if he's set on getting out,~ Dai Atlas growled and dodged a missile. The explosion seared some paint off, but nothing more. He didn't even register the blast from the gestalt rifle that vaporized the bulk of his frame.

Another shot hit Axe's wing, taking it off at the base. The black Knight yelped, falling out of control. This time he couldn't dodge the volley that was fired against him. Grumbling, he settled into observer status to watch the rest of the battle. While it wasn't the slaughter that the first battle had been, it was a mess the likes of which neither had been responsible for in a very, very long time.

~You know, if his side had broadcast sims like these, it'd make great propaganda,~ Dai Atlas mused as he watched the city itself inflict much of the damage. ~And all that at barely twenty eight percent full capacity. We don't even have a world complicated enough to keep him entertained.~

~I certainly hope he can be convinced to remain here and use that processor power for the good of New Crystal City,~ Axe murmured. ~If he does want to leave, we might not be able to hold him. I highly doubt we would be able to stop him, if he can turn the city itself against us.~

They were both mulling that over when they felt Thorn ping for them to disconnect and were surprised when he motioned them to follow him out of the room without a sound.

Dai Atlas gave Prowl a long look for a moment, then followed Thorn out without a word. Axe followed right behind his mate, ruffling and resettling his armor. As the door closed behind them, both sets of optics fixed on the smaller black Knight.

"All the other issues I just brought up aside, my primary purpose with this is to prove that keeping him separate from his pilot is unlikely to change the odds of either of them escaping if they put their processors to it," Thorn explained. "We all just witnessed proof that Prowl is here because he has agreed to remain. While I don't have the same proof with Jazz, Wing and I agree that he's still here for much the same reason."

"We were concerned about them plotting with each other in order to escape," Dai Atlas rumbled.

"But I believe what we've seen proves that Prowl doesn't need any help to plot," Axe commented. "Which begs the question of whether or not there's any point to keeping them apart."

"There's one very good reason to lift the ban," Thorn said quietly. "Jazz can get more out of Prowl than even I can, when it comes to socializing. Prowl's a good way to help burn off some of Jazz's energy too. That mech takes to settled about as well as Wing does."

"A good reason indeed," Dai Atlas agreed after a moment. The big mech frowned thoughtfully as he turned the matter over in his processor, Axe offering his own thoughts and opinions through their bond, then flicked his wings. "The ban is lifted. There is no real point to keeping them apart."

"Thank you," Thorn's gold and black wings relaxed a fraction. "I'll see about convincing him to get back in his frame," he said with both serious and humorous harmonics as he turned to enter the room.

Both of the larger mechs inclined their helms slightly, watching Thorn reenter the sim room. After a moment Dai Atlas twitched his wings and huffed softly. He hadn't lost that badly at a combat sim since his early vorns as a young officer-in-training.

Axe just chuckled and patted his mate on the shoulder before steering him towards their quarters. "I doubt you ever faced off against a dedicated tactician of his level."

"His level?" Dai Atlas glanced at Axe. "His level didn't exist before him."

"True enough," the black mech acknowledged. "Just be glad we never had to face him on a real battlefield and leave it at that. No need to get bent out of shape about it. I highly doubt he's the type to brag about having kicked your aft in a sim."

"Between you and Wing, I'm sure it'll get around," he huffed even as he relaxed into the contact. "Kicked your aft pretty good too. Haven't see tactics like that in a long time. I have to wonder where he gets the ideas."

"He's got the most creative tactical processor I've ever come across," Axe admitted freely. "Maybe if you ask, he'll tell you."

"Maybe," Dai Atlas consented, his focus already drifting forward to a nice cube of quartz energon and evening with his mate.

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Jazz walked quietly beside Wing, not asking where they were going. He knew these halls far better than many of the Knights would be comfortable with.

Instead his processor was focused on the last two orns, and everything that he had seen. The jail ... it was place a punishment, with no luxuries and only the basic essentials, but it was still a far cry from what Jazz knew as a prison. It was clean, well maintained, the mecha there given basic medical care and energon and not tortured or tormented by their captors. It was truly a place meant to keep those who would commit crimes against civilians separate from them and it didn't seem to be much more than that.

The hospice tower, a place that had invoked extreme discomfort in Wing, was different from the prison. Meant to give the few mecha currently housed there the most peaceful passing possible, even Jazz had been respectful and quiet, more than a little in awe of the resources being spent on mecha that in the world Jazz had known would likely have been left on the side of road to fade and be stripped, if they weren't thrown in a smelter still functioning.

Rehab had been another awakening, and had led Jazz to one question for Wing. "I know you produce highgrade from regular energon. But if you don't have any contact with the outside world, where do they get their stimulants and such?"

Wing gave him a startled look and actually missed a step, his short, thin wings flaring and flapping frantically to regain his balance as his processor flagged the question as one he _should_ know the answer too. He found his stride and gave a slightly helpless shrug of his pinions. "I'm not even sure who to ask to find that out."

"Might be something that you should look into." Jazz suggested mildly, then let the subject drop. He didn't care so much about the fact that it existed as the how it was addressed. How all of it was addressed.

Because here in the city, from what he had seen, they addressed their darkness. The low and helpless of society were cared for. Criminals were punished for their actions, but not abused or tormented. The old were not left to die alone, and the sick were not left to fade into darkness. If these were cared for ... he would almost believe that Wing was telling him the truth, and that there were those who might actually care about him.

Wing nodded, processors still scrambling for who to ask for answers. "I'm sure the peacekeepers know," he said uncertainly. "Or Dai Atlas. I'll ask."

They fell into silence again, each mulling over their own issues until Wing walked up a short, wide set of stairs and palmed a door with much higher security than usual. "This is the counsel chamber, where the Knights meet to discuss issues, meet new Initiates and Knights, hold the few ceremonies we have and have trials."

"So what I am doing here? I do something wrong?" Jazz asked, stepping inside and looking around. It was not the first time that he had been here, but there was no reason for Wing to know that.

"Passing through," Wing said with unusual seriousness, his field flattening and hardening with the state he had to hold himself to here and in anticipation for what they were going to witness.

At an unseen signal, the floor slid open in front of the largest seat, the one that was behind the extra markings and no doubt for the Sovereign. Jazz could see stairs leading down to a dimly lit space.

Any humor in Jazz's field disappeared with Wing's discomfort, and he tilted his helm to study the other mech out of the corner of his vision as followed Wing into the dim space.

Unease rose in Jazz at the tight confinement and the unknown. While the passage was large enough to allow mecha of Dai Atlas and Axe's size to pass without hindrance, it was the feel of place pressing down on you that made it feel so confining. The first door on the right was open and contained a simple washrack for one. Beyond it were five more doors; two on the right and three on the left. The heavy doors and feel of the place, thick with cleaner and the scent of pain, spoiled system energon and other fluids assaulted Jazz's awareness.

"These are the penance rooms, where Knights pay for more serious crimes," Wing said, his frame momentarily still. "Most of the time it is in the form of a binding. When we inflict serious harm on another ... that is what you will witness this orn."

"You'll attack your own?" Jazz asked, quiet and serious.

"We are still mecha, Jazz. We have emotions, fears, problems. It is the work of a very long functioning to master them completely, and few manage." Dim golden optics focused on him. "We are not perfect, we can only do our best and given penance when we fail to uphold the Code of Light. You will hear what happened and why at the beginning of her penance."

Wing drew in a deep breath. "Come. We need to be in place before she arrives."

Disturbed and more curious now than ever Jazz followed Wing into the last door on the left. It was a simple square with few adornments, nowhere to lay or sit, but Jazz's gaze was instantly drawn to the hooks and chains in several places to handle mecha of most sizes. His optics swept over the cabinet built into the wall and rested on a large Seeker of an _old_ design, light on armor and much more elegant than the war-frames he associated with the term. The Seeker dipped yellow striped white wings to them but did not say a thing.

::Steelspark. He is the injured party,:: Wing shifted to the comm. ::Please do not speak inside this room.::

Jazz nodded once in understanding, allowing Wing to guide him to where he needed to be, back in a corner where they could watch but would not be part of the scene. ::I will not.:: He promised quietly.

::Thank you,:: Wing murmured. His field was uncomfortable, determined, but held nothing of the tremors that marked a mech who disagreed with what he expected.

They'd only just settled when the door opened and a small, light combat Aerial of opalescent black walked in, stiff and set. She wasn't looking forward to this, no one in the room seemed to be, but her wingset spoke clearly of a mecha who was not afraid to face what was coming.

Behind her was Dai Atlas, who absolutely loomed over her small frame, even though she was taller than Wing. Not a sound was made by anyone in the room as Shattercoil positioned herself below a set of hanging chains that would hold her upright, but little else.

Jazz had witnessed interrogations, tortures, executions where the point was to drag it out. He'd never witnessed a victim so complacent or a torturer so grim. Whatever he might take from this, whatever he was going to see, none of the Knights liked it but they all believed that it should happen. At least that was the impression they were all giving, and Jazz had no doubt that for Wing it was true. He'd spent too much time in the young jet's company to doubt his teek or read on him.

Shattercoil allowed herself to be chained up, the posture uncomfortable with her arms rotated back and bound above her, but with her thruster-pedes firmly on the floor it wouldn't have hurt, much less caused damage.

"Do you know why you are here?" Dai Atlas' voice had the cadence and harmonics of ritual.

"Yes, Sovereign," Shattercoil responded, meeting his optics without fear or defiance. "I injured another without need."

"Why?"

"While sparring, Steelspark struck my wing at the joint. I do not remember much past that," she responded softly. "I understand I did significant damage before I was subdued."

"Do you know the penance for your crime against the Order?" Dai Atlas' voice and frame held steady.

"Yes, Sovereign," she responded. "A binding in black to understand, replication of what I caused on my frame and reparations for the repair of both."

Jazz tensed, processing that. She was being punished for...reacting? But then, he had seen the Knights spar. He had watched Wing spar. There was little chance for them to actually _harm_ another, unless they intended to. She had reacted, and lost the control that they strove for, and had hurt someone else. Seriously.

Still, he was having a hard time processing that she was willing submitting to suffering the same damage that she had inflicted on another. Yet he looked around the room. This was the Knights. Their order. Their rules. From what he'd gathered, they all entered training as adults, at least aware of the basics of what they were in for. Wing had made it very clear more than once that a penance was reserved for a Knight. That everyone else faced civilian law, even if the Knights carried it out. Compared to some things that he had seen, this was discipline that at least sounded reasonable, justifiable.

Dai Atlas nodded. "Do you wish to hear the list of injuries you inflicted?"

"No, Sovereign," she murmured, relaxing her frame and presenting it.

Another nod and Wing went tense. He definitely did not want to be here. He wasn't uncomfortable like he'd been in the hospice tower, that had a distinct flavor of personal connection and distress he had not yet conquered. This was just ... general distress. It wasn't something Wing objected to, but wasn't happy it was happening.

Dai Atlas went to the cabinet and opened it, giving Jazz a glimpse at tools he was entirely too familiar with. Yes, there were some that made sense given her description, blades and bars, but there were also a nasty looking whip, a shock baton, spools of cord that didn't look strong enough to hold anyone and a smattering of other implements that had no place outside a torture chamber.

He picked up what looked to be a practice sword, something tiny in his hands, and walked up to her. Without a blink of hesitation he struck her left wing, crumpling the metal inward as it was sheered through by the dull blade. Despite the agony it must have cause, Shattercoil didn't do more than grimace.

It was a struggle for Jazz not to flinch, even though he had been expecting it. He knew that he was in no danger, but the sheer power was enough to drive fear into the spark of any mecha. He continued to watch, and struggle not to flinch, as blow after precise blow was landed. Her wings were tatters by the end, the floor a pool of processed energon and other fluids, her armor dented, broken, gouged and shattered.

And she was screaming. Somewhere near the end of her second wing her ability to stoically cope with the pain had reached its limit.

Through it all Jazz watched and leaned, and gradually realized that Dai Atlas was making incredibly tight calculations on how much strength to use. The same weapon that tore a line through her wing left little more than a dent in another place. He really was duplicating damage from memory.

Also through it all he carefully teeked the victim, Steelspark. The mech was neither sympathetic nor pleased as far as Jazz could work out. He witnessed because it was expected of him. Yet it seemed he bore her no ill will, nor did he want revenge. It was simply how things worked among them. It was a lesson, meant to teach and to benefit the one receiving it, no matter how it appeared on the surface. Even as he began to understand, he knew that it would a long time, if ever, that he _really_ understood something so foreign.

It was also an admission of the darkness that he been seeking. The truth that Wing had spoken- that they were still normal mecha in that they were not perfect. But here, once more, the darkness, the imperfection, was confronted and corrected, not ignored or condoned or rewarded. Though he hadn't been told explicitly, Jazz was suddenly sure that once she was repaired and the fine paid, this event would not be held against her. She'd paid her debt, but unlike the society he knew, they actually _meant_ it here.

Jazz was at least as grateful as Wing when the medics had taken Shattercoil's battered frame away so they could escape. As he stepped outside, Jazz gave a last look back to see the Sovereign of Light, the most powerful mecha in the Order and possibly in the city, get out rags to clean up the gory mess he'd created. That sunk deep into his processor as well, that even here the most powerful being in the city took responsibility for cleaning up after his actions. He had a lot to think about, an exercise he did not often take part in, but one that he had the feeling he would be spending a lot of time on over the next few orns.


	5. Plugging in to Plot

**Grasping a Chance 5: Plugging in to Plot**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz lay sprawled on the couch, not really paying much attention to the vid playing on the screen or the mech seated nearby. The Knight had been working on something of his own, leaving Jazz to lay there and think. The grounder had been thinking a lot lately. Far more than he ever had before. The more he learned about the strange city had awoken to find himself in, the more he was starting to believe that Wing was telling him the truth.

And the more convinced he was that there may not be a place for him in it.

"Have you thought of anything you want to do for a function?" Wing's voice broke into his thoughts.

Jazz sighed and rolled over to face the Knight. "Honest answer- what I know how to do, you don't need. I know how to destroy things. I don't _know_ how else to do anything, so I don't know if I _want_ to do anything."

"Demolitions, security consultant, safety consultant," Wing rattled off smoothly. "I also don't believe you for a nanoklik. You know how to survive. You know how to be loyal. You know how to evade security like few beings in the city," he gave Jazz a wicked grin. "I _did_ tell you I snuck to the surface. You like to dance. You like to explore. You like to test limits. There are a few functions those things fit into as well."

"I'm listening." Jazz said, more of his attention focused on Wing, and a very odd edge to his field. It was a desire to hope, if not necessarily hope itself.

"Some mecha earn a good living dancing, whether it includes erotic elements or not," Wing pointed out, his frame relaxing back so he was looking at Jazz upside down. It was as vulnerable and relaxed a posture as the Knight knew that didn't have unwanted elements. "We have an entire planet to explore, and very few willing to go anywhere near the work. Granted it's not just driving around where you please, but it's pretty close to it. It pays well too. I wouldn't be surprised if you took to energon crafts and distilling. One thing I do know. You've got the processor and adaptability to become _anything_. All you have to do is allow it to catch your attention."

Jazz smiled, a real expression that was unusual for him. "I'll think on that." He promised, processor already working on the plans for his next night exploration, and where he was planning to take it.

"Good," Wing smiled back and returned his attention to what he was doing before.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Sand.

That was the main thing in Jazz's processor, despite the another vid playing, this one on the screen in Thorn's quarters, and the fields of four nearby mecha.

Because that was most of what he had found when he had made it to the surface. Sand and rock stretching on as far as the optic could see, with no sign of civilization anywhere on it. Overhead multiple moons were spread among unfamiliar stars. It was empty. The perfect place to hide from the rest of the galaxy.

And an even more difficult place to escape from.

He glanced over at Prowl, bemused by the shift in how the mech acted. He still _despised_ being touched, apparently even when he shared the berth with Thorn and sometimes another, but he liked being close enough to mesh fields. Like right now. Prowl was sitting on the couch with Thorn on one side, Demeter's alt on the other, his knees tucked to his chest and wings pulled in, no one in physical contact, but his facial structure and his field gave a pleasant softness. It was easy to believe he was snuggled between two lovers he trusted, if you didn't look at the gaps between their frames.

Wing was sitting on the arm of the couch, leaning against Thorn. And Jazz suspected that if the current caresses continued in the pattern he had noticed, they would not remain innocent for very much longer.

That thought led to another, and his optics settled once more on Prowl. They were allowed to spend time together unhindered now, but still never without at least one keeper present. And so far there had been no legitimate way to escape their keepers' supervision. But if he played his cards right, there might be a way for them to talk.

The vid ended, and Demeter abandoned her spot to choose another. Jazz slipped into the suddenly empty space, field reaching out to brush against Prowl's, warm and friendly, with an undercurrent of something more. Prowl's field reached out to mesh with his, something easy and calm and almost-feeling-whole in it. The mech didn't so much as glance over at the change in company, though. No physical hint he was even aware of it.

Jazz field shifted and morphed slowly, accepting the calm and responding with a playful push, gently nudging against Prowl as Jazz focused on Demeter when she turned around, a smile on his face. Two could play this sort of game.

A grin crossed the canine mouth and she jumped into Wing's lap while the new vid began, something mildly pornographic from the opening sequence. More than a bit to Jazz's surprise, Prowl didn't seem to mind. He watched for a bit, field continuing to tease at Prowl's. Finally he reached over, fingers smoothing over storm gray arm plating with an even, firm pressure. Light enough to be gentle and suggestive without tickling, and a motion that the other could move away from if he chose.

Prowl's field rippled with a flutter of displeasure before smoothing out with only a faint hint of uncertainty. Then he leaned into the touch, lightly, but enough to be encouraging.

With the acceptance Jazz shifted closer, his frame lightly touching Prowl's. For a few kliks he remained like that, a soft edge creeping into Jazz's field at the contact without his intention. Prowl responded by gradually unmeshing from the forming threesome on his left to the more appealing situation to his right.

Then the fingers drifted higher, brushing over a data port, moving on to another port, and back down again. Prowl shivered and pressed into the contact with a sound that might just be a moan and definite flare of pleasure across his field. A flare of surprise rippled through Jazz, then smoothed into answering pleasure as he repeated the motion, smiling. A few more strokes and sounds, and he glanced at their keepers.

"Shall we take this somewhere else?" He suggested, leaning closer and speaking softly, tone holding a seductive edge that was clearly missing in his field. Prowl nodded and reached out to slide his fingers over one of Jazz's ports, though he gave Thorn a glance, only standing when the black mech nodded.

"Have fun," Wing trilled and leaned in to kiss Thorn, all pretense of behaving gone with their charges now occupied.

Jazz followed into Prowl's room, remaining close the entire time, both to keep up the pretense and because the contact with someone familiar was soothing. Once the door closed he tilted his helm in the direction of the berth. "There?"

Prowl simply nodded, his primary dataport spiraling open as he sat, then lay down. He was doing a very good impression of a first-time lover, wanting but a little uncertain, as he looked up at Jazz while he pulled his cable from the spool next to his port.

"It's fun." Jazz promised with a smile, settling next to Prowl and continuing to stroke armor plating lightly. Here, where Prowl knew his field wasn't being picked up by anyone else, it smoothed out a bit more, calm, centered and focused. It was a lead that Jazz followed. First time lovers on the outside as his port spiraled open and he tilted his frame, offering to let Prowl plug in first, slow and considerate, but internally all business.

That relaxed Prowl the rest of the way and he plugged in, a gentle shift of his wrist, a move that he had done so many times with mainframes it was smooth and easy, even if he'd very rarely connected to another mecha. His full awareness, the power of his extraordinary processors, was held in check only by weak social protocols as he waited for Jazz to lower the outer firewalls and let him in.

The first few layers fell away, each testing and confirming Prowl's clearance before allowing him deeper as Jazz returned the physical gesture, plugging into Prowl with the same smooth ease, even if his was born of far different experiences.

The sheer power of Prowl's systems had him humming in appreciation, frame settling against Prowl and his helm resting on Prowl's shoulder as he continued to touch the storm gray plating, pinging for admittance. It was granted, and as firewalls and identity checks were cleared, Jazz grasped this mech's lack of fear for hardline connections. His defenses were equal to anything Jazz knew of.

~Of course,~ Prowl sounded rather amused here, the emotion coming across much more easily without the barrier of physical reactions in the way. ~I ran a city, then much of the imperial government's statistical analysis and management. They could not afford to have me hacked. Not even by Soundwave. He failed when he attempted it. Now, what have you learned that they did not teach us?~

~There is nothing on the surface but sand and rock, for the most part. When they chose a place to hide, they chose well.~ Jazz finally answered, momentarily distracted by the clarity of emotion from a mech that rarely shared them before offering Prowl images of the surface. ~I have no idea where we are either. The stars are not on any of my charts.~

Prowl pushed the images towards a secondary processor for phrasing to see if his far greater knowledge base could extrapolate where they were. ~Did you detect any transmissions while up there?~

~Nothing. But my new comms aren't on par with my old ones.~ There was a small amount of regret there, the upgrades that he had received when he joined ops something that he missed. ~You don't pick up anything from down here on the surface either. They have this place buried deep and well shielded.~

~No surprise, if their intent was to hide,~ Prowl said reasonably. ~Have you found a working interstellar ship?~

~No luck on that front either. They were very clear in that they don't want anyone leaving, and mecha showing up is a rare thing.~ Jazz paused, musing as something occurred to him that hadn't before, and he suddenly kicked himself. ~I wonder if we are the first since they landed here.~

~From the records I have been able to access, we are,~ Prowl responded. ~If you can find the engine we need, the rest can be built. If there is not a powerful enough engine, we need to shift our focus to adapting to here. The Autobots are unlikely to survive if I am gone for too long.~

~I'll start looking the next time I go out.~ Jazz promised, a sudden shift in his processor marking the promise as important. Labeling it as a mission, and therefore a priority. The status of the Autobots was met with a sort of mental shrug, and a level of detachment. ~If I can get into one of the exploration jobs that Wing mentioned it might make things easier too, since I would have reason to be out on my own, away from the city.~

~That would be useful,~ Prowl agreed. ~I am doing what I can to access the databases that are currently denied me. There must be some understanding of where here is relative to Cybertron in their records somewhere. Has Wing treated you well?~

~As well as can be expected, I guess.~ Jazz answered. ~He's looking out for me as best as can, by the way he thinks. Think I've broadsided him more than once, since he's never known anything but here.~

~Yes, he is quite young,~ Prowl agreed. ~Though his creators are the oldest mecha in the city, I believe. He is not as innocent as his age would suggest. Much like the two of us. Do you have anything else to report?~

~Not now. But now that I know what I am looking for I may soon.~ He nuzzled gently at Prowl's shoulder. ~And if they are willing to give us at least an illusion of privacy, we can talk easier.~

~As long as they believe us to be interfacing, they are unlikely to question our use of this time too strongly,~ Prowl agreed. ~How do you wish to overload?~

~I have a personal like for spike 'n valve.~ Jazz answered honestly. ~But I have no objection to overloading like this instead.~ He said as he sent a gentle wave of pure energy over the hardline connection between them, paying close attention to the response it earned and was surprised when it garnered nothing. It simply dissipated into the systems that were Prowl.

~I have no preference,~ Prowl said firmly.

~Hardline then.~ Jazz grumbled, slightly irritated. ~Can you even overload?~

~Not in the sense that you understand it. My tac-net is far too valuable to risk damage from entertainment. It does feel good, however,~ Prowl murmured, sending a sequence of pulses perfectly synched to Jazz's spark. ~I do not miss what I have never known.~

~Not fair.~ A small part of Jazz's processor protested, even as he moaned in pleasure from the energy sweeping over him and returned the favor, searching for every trick he knew to bring another pleasure this way. Hands started drifting over Prowl's frame, seeking pleasure points, before he pulled them back with a sense of apology.

~Nothing in my existence has been fair,~ Prowl replied with another series of pulses and a sense of thanks for not touching. ~Very little in yours has been, from your file.~

Jazz's response was a gentle hum of acceptance and another shrug as he focused more of his attention on Prowl and overloading them both, because he had to and not because it was something that he particularly wanted any more. A low, soft moan from Prowl was reward for his efforts, as well as Prowl escalating his pulses. It was entirely too much like being with a pleasurebot in many ways. Prowl's only interest was in overloading him so it would be done with. There was no attraction there, no desire, only skill based on knowledge without any passion.

~You don't have to play like you enjoy it for me.~ Jazz commented, frame beginning to quiver with the energy being pushed at him over the connection and that he was concentrating on sending in return.

~It does feel good,~ Prowl hummed in reply, his field backing up the statement as he sent another salvo into Jazz's systems. ~It is just not what you perceive.~

Jazz didn't bother answering, moaning softly as the energy passed between them continued to escalate. Right now that was enough, and he would worry more about the differences between them later. One thing he knew. Prowl was entirely too good at this.

Another soft sound of pleasure escaped the Praxian and his vents cracked open a bit further, but it was nothing compared to the state Jazz was in.

The slender white mech's frame was vibrating, energy crackling over the surface and brushing against Prowl. Another klik and another push, and Jazz cried out, frame arching and locking as a powerful overload swept through him.

Across the connection there was sense of unconscious disorientation, pure pleasure, and a complete lack of fear at being in that state.

Prowl relaxed, disconnecting Jazz's cable and waited for the mech to settle before disconnecting himself. "Sated?" Prowl asked politely.

"Yes." Jazz answered after he was able to focus again. "You're good at that." He murmured, reaching out to touch without thinking as Prowl retrieved his cable, leaving them to speak once more.

"It is a simple thing to learn. Once you know a mecha's spark frequency, simply modulate your transmissions to that," Prowl said, not objecting to the touch for now. "Then push enough current through the hardline at that rate until they overload."

Jazz hummed and curled against him, field one of resigned comfort and frame simply seeking the warm contact of another.


	6. The Definition of Friends

**Grasping a Chance 6: The Definition of Friends**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz sat next to Wing on the public transport, watching the city pass them by, watching the other passengers watch them. It wasn't hard to guess that a Knight was not a common sight on a transport anywhere. While Wing was outwardly composed, Jazz was close enough to catch the periodic flicker of distress or light grief that passed through it before being caught and quashed.

He didn't know where they were going, or why, or even how long they'd be gone. Wing had simply said he needed to do something and promptly started to drag Jazz all over the afternoon market in the local district until he found a potted crystal flower in a specific shade of pink, which Wing paid far too many credits for in Jazz's opinion, but Jazz had no use for flowers, potted or otherwise. Then got on this transport to the far side of the city.

"So do I get to know why we're out?" Jazz asked, getting rather impatient with not knowing.

"I've been ignoring a friend," Wing said quietly, not really wanting to be overheard. "He's quite upset with me."

Jazz's optics cycled, trying to process that. "So you are...?" He asked quietly, giving Wing at least that much respect, but not letting the subject drop.

"Going to apologize, try to make amends," he finished the statement. "The plant is a gift. I hope it smoothes things over a bit."

"And why do you care, if he's so angry? Seems to me it would be easier to move on." Jazz commented as the transport came to a stop and he followed Wing from their seats.

Wing gave one of those twitches that meant Jazz had said something so far outside his reality that Wing was having a hard time working out how to respond.

"Because he's my friend," Wing eventually tried as he led Jazz on a crowded walkway along residential blocks in an industrial section of the city.

"Right." Jazz said, letting the conversation drop and settling himself in for seeing what Wing was going to do. He had learned a lot this way, and this was just another thing that he didn't understand, but had the feeling that he was going to have to if he wanted to survive here.

They got looks from folks, but it wasn't quite the same. Many of these folks seemed to at least recognize Wing, if the friendly nods, smiles and waves that he returned were anything to go by.

Which led to a good question. What in the world had _Wing_ so familiar with heavy industry bots?

Jazz was still mulling that one over when Wing headed inside one of the buildings and got on a lift, punching in the 23rd of 87 floors.

The lift rose smoothly and quickly, in good repair and well maintained, just like everything else that Jazz had encountered in the city, and so different from what he was used to.

"So what am I supposed to do while you are busy?" Jazz asked as the lift drew to a stop.

"Umm, maybe pick up something about friends?" Wing suggested as he stepped into the hallway, nodding to a couple residents that belonged far more than either of them did. "Friends are good to have."

His charge just huffed, field full of doubt as he watched the mecha they passed cautiously. Wing chuckled at the response before he paused in front of a door, distinguished only by a number, and pinged for admittance.

There was a long pause, and Wing began to fidget.

Eventually the door slid open to a mid-sized mech only a few fingers taller than Wing, but heavier built with what looked like might even be war-grade armor. One sniff and Jazz knew otherwise. It was smelter-grade armor, painted black, silver and red with blue and yellow highlights. This mech worked with high-temperature molten metal, and left the blast mask on by habit.

"What?" he growled, glaring at Wing with fierce blue optics.

"Umm, hi Marchwind," Wing shifted, even more unsteady. "I know I've missed our last few dates, and I'm very sorry. May I come in, try to explain?"

The smelter-bot glowered at Wing until the Knight began to really squirm, then huffed and stepped back. "Come in. Who's your shadow?"

Wing let out a long vent of relief, his wings quivering at the release of tension. He stepped inside the simple, working-class apartment. A single room with a berth, a couple chairs, a simple entertainment center and a shelf of bookfiles and nick-knacks. The walls were anything but standard though. Those were full of images. Mecha, buildings, flowers and less identifiable things. Wing featured in three that Jazz could pick out, and might have been in two others. There weren't much of the other Knights though.

"This is Jazz. He's why I've been so distracted lately," Wing explained with apology thick in his harmonics.

At the mention of his designation, and the fact that _he_ was the reason for Wing's shortcomings, Jazz focused on the other mech, his attention drawn from his surrounds except for escape routes. There really wasn't much. A window that wouldn't be an easy fit and the door, that thankfully Marchwind was on the far side of him from.

If he was the other mech, the offender would be beaten into a pile of wire and components, if Wing had transgressed as badly as the Knight was making it out to be.

Marchwind focused on Jazz before looking at Wing again. "He's not really your type."

"Get your processor out of the gutter," Wing snorted, seemingly back to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He's my charge. The Sovereign assigned him to me until he's ready to be on his own. We're really not supposed to be out this far, but with that message..." Wing's tone went back to the apologetic warble.

A small shift in Marchwind's stance indicated there might be a small smile under that blast mask. "Nice to know you haven't changed that much."

"I got the point," Wing ducked his helm and brought the small plant out of subspace, offering it. "Peace?"

Marchwind just shook his helm and sighed. "Peace," he accepted the pot with one hand and teased Wing's finials with the other.

And left Jazz staring at both of them, confused. "So just what was that all about?" He finally asked.

"We have a standing meeting at Riddle Quest's on the first of every decaorn," Marchwind explained. "He's missed several. I finally commed asking if he was still functioning."

Wing grimaced. "I still get distracted by a new shiny."

"It's not the distraction that gets you in trouble," Marchwind huffed as he found a spot for the flower. "It's the fixation that you develop shortly afterwards."

Jazz had to hide a snicker at the comment, even as he tried to process the apparent relationship between the two. It was so odd, the way they interacted, and he wondered what price was passed between for their arrangement, and what had started it in the first place.

"Sit down," Marchwind motioned to the chairs he had, or rather the smaller of the two. "Since Wing's going to be fixated on you for a while, I might as well hear all about it."

Wing flopped over the low back of the chair, almost draping himself on Jazz's shoulder so Marchwind could have the larger chair. "But first," Wing's voice was a teasing whisper in Jazz's audial. "First you're going to ask all those questions flitting around your processor because I know that look."

"What?" Jazz grumbled. "Like how did the meetings start, and what do you get from them? And why does he care? Those questions?"

"Those questions," Wing chuckled, his field relaxing and flowing smoothly to wrap around Jazz in a blanket of comfort and welcome. "We met when I was on my walkabout as a new Knight. We go into the city with a few credits and have to spend a century or two with no support or contact with the Citadel or other Knights. You live as a civilian, work whatever you can to earn credits and generally make sure that you really do want to be a Knight of Light. I found out I was absolutely miserable in a foundry, but I got a couple good friends out of the decaorn."

"Wing plus foundry is just begging for Primus' mercy on someone's spark," Marchwind chuckled, a harmonic there that could have been insulting, but clearly wasn't to Wing.

"The meetings started when we found out we both enjoy puzzles, riddle and games of skill," Wing continued with a grin towards Marchwind. "I get to enjoy the company of someone I like, and who likes me. A friend."

"I care because I like Wing's company and he's a friend. A good one," a teasing glint entered Marchwind's optics. "Who's constantly getting into trouble."

"Not _that_ constantly," Wing huffed in objection, something that didn't reach his field.

"And you both do this just for fun?" Jazz said, processing the reason and still working on the bond between the two of them, a sort of easy going humor full of true affection.

"Of course," Wing nodded. "We're friends. We share company because we like the company."

"You don't have any friends?" Marchwind looked at Jazz in disbelief.

"He's been in a warzone his entire functioning," Wing said by way of explanation. "Very new to the city."

"Friends were the people you could recharge around without worry that you weren't going to boot up." Jazz said, defining his understanding of the term up until now.

Deep sorrow slithered through Wing's field before dissipating, and Marchwind simply stared at him in complete lack of comprehension.

"A life in war," Wing murmured. "Even such fundamentals are lost. Under that definition, I don't think there is anyone in the entire city you that wouldn't qualify as a friend. But it means something very different here. It's someone you trust, yes, but it's someone you _like_."

"So what else are friends?" Jazz asked.

"Friends can be a lot of things, but I think that's a good working definition that covers it. A friend is someone you trust you're safe around and you like being around," Wing decided as much as said.

Jazz hummed, storing that away and wondering if he would ever be able to use the term to define a relation between himself and another mecha.

"Isn't there anyone you _like_ to be around?" Wing asked gently.

The brightly colored red and blue mech considered for a while before answering with a shrug. "I don't mind being around you or Prowl or Thorn. Demeter is tolerable too."

But actually _liking_ being around them, that Jazz wasn't sure about it. He still preferred to be by himself. Alone was safest, even if he did sometimes indulge in company. He was always very careful in his company, and he never sought them out just because he wanted to be with one particular mecha.

"Well, we're just going to have to work on that, then," Wing got that determined edge to his field that never boded well for the subject about to get flattened by his particular brand of explosive enthusiasm. "A functioning without friends is a sad, lonely one."

"How would you know?" Jazz asked, a sarcastic edge to his tone.

Wing just kind of stared at him, then cocked his helm. "Because I know what having friends is like, and how lonely and sad it is when I can't be around any of them."

"And do all friends always make up?" Jazz asked, looking between the two other mecha in the room. "And what if I don't want to be some someone's friend?"

"No, friends don't always make up, and sometimes friends drift apart," Marchwind said, relaxing in his chair. "Sometimes they become more too. Lovers, or mates."

"Friendship is mutual. If you don't want to be someone's friend, you aren't. Remember the definition of a friend here? It's someone you like spending time with, that you enjoy the company of, and that you feel safe around. If both sides don't feel that, then it's not a friendship." Wing said.

"Sounds easy enough." Jazz said, though his field revealed that he understood it was not nearly as easy as it sounded. With that he settled in his chair, visor dimming a little as he mulled over what he had learned as Wing and Marchwind continued to catch up.


	7. Private Quarters

**Grasping a Chance 7: Private Quarters**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So I've been thinking." Jazz started as he set his energon down on the table and looked around at the other mecha gathered with him in the common room. "The Citadel isn't really meant for mecha like me 'n Prowl, non-Knights, and we've been away from all-orn surveillance for while."

Now sure that he had attention of at least Thorn and Wing, and Prowl's too, even if he didn't show it as clearly, Jazz continued. "How about letting me move out? We could even move out together, if you're interested." He said, focusing on Prowl.

There was a minute pause as Prowl ran that through whatever passed for his 'good idea/bad idea' algorithms, and he nodded. "I am agreeable to cohabitating."

Wing chuckled and sipped his energon. "You both have the income to afford it, and you have settled in well. We'll have to clear it first, but I don't see a problem with it."

"You may be required to check in with us regularly, but I would recommend it as well," Thorn inclined his helm. "I see no reason not to give you both additional freedoms."

"See? Good idea all around. Do you want to look, or do you want me to do the looking and just bring back what I find?" Jazz said, true grin wide on his face. He had settled a lot in the last few vorns, becoming more at ease in the city and its inhabitants. "And if I am doing the looking, what should I be on the look-out for?"

Thorn watched his still charge and hid a smile of his own. There were times when Jazz had started to get excited over a project, and the Knight had to admit that when Jazz was excited about something the results were often spectacular. This might well prove to be another one of those times. He had much in common with Wing that way.

"I require a berthroom no smaller than my current one, and keep the price reasonable," Prowl instructed smoothly. "I would prefer a location within half a joor's drive of the central government district."

"I can work with that." Jazz said, his excitement growing more, his helm tilted as he looked at Prowl. "Anything else?" He doubted there was. Prowl was usually very thorough, and if offered nothing more in the original answer there probably wasn't, but it never hurt to check.

"No. I do not anticipate spending much time there," Prowl responded between sips of his energon.

"You might want to keep an optic on how close the bathhouses and cafes are," Wing suggested. "Most towers will have at least one, but the ratio of them to residents and how nice they are varies a lot."

"And how close it is to your central message hub, as well." Thorn pointed out, thinking of Jazz's current occupation.

The grounder made a face and nodded in agreement. "Good point. But the baths are more important." He had gotten spoiled with the abundant, well kept ones in the Citadel, and he knew this. He would have to find good ones. Basic ones for standard cleaning close to home, and maybe a nice one for the occasional splurge when a good long soak and detailing or extra attention sounded nice. It was one thing that Jazz liked to indulge in every now and then, and something that he could get Prowl to agree to sometimes as well. It seemed to be one of Prowl's few indulgences when it came to his frame. The Praxian loved a hot oil bath, loved to be clean and loved his extra soft berth with lots of pillows. Not that Jazz didn't relish these things, but Prowl seemed to find them important on the level most mecha found good interfacing to be.

Prowl glanced at Jazz, his optics calculating before he nodded to himself. "I believe you know my preferences well enough to take them into suitable account for the bathhouse choices."

"Some places come already furnished. That might be something to consider when you are looking, considering some of each of your personal preferences." Thorn said, looking from Jazz to Prowl.

Prowl inclined his helm. "The berth?" he guessed.

"It's a high-end flier's berth," Thorn nodded. "Your large wings make it strongly advisable, though as you know you can recharge well enough on a standard flier's berth."

"You could look for places furnished for one with a mostly unfurnished spare room," Wing added thoughtfully. "Assuming the rest meets Jazz's needs. Prowl's berth can be bought and put in the spare room."

"I am agreeable to that," Prowl agreed smoothly.

"I'll introduce you to the RRS then," Wing smiled brightly. "Residence Research System."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz was understandably pleased when the three apartments he'd insisted Prowl look at before they selected one when all were found acceptable. He'd been around Prowl enough by then to recognize 'I like it' when he teeked it. He'd chosen the one with the best view, which also happened to be closest to the nicest middle-class bathhouse in the district and a dozen cafes that Jazz knew served reasonably priced but good energon. He'd studied cost vs. quality in such basics as bathhouses and energon intensely ever since he'd gotten a firm grasp on what his income was, and again when he learned of Prowl's.

The Praxian made a small fortune compared to Jazz, but then, Prowl was also in charge of allocating resources for the entire city. There wasn't a department or business that did not, sooner or later, need what he provided. In Jazz's estimation, it put Prowl's income somewhere in the top end of the upper middle class. Not that you'd ever know it from Prowl.

Jazz's occupation as a courier meant that his income tended to fluctuate from orn to orn, but he still made a decent living. More than enough to support him at a comfortable level, and still allow for the occasional indulgence.

Like right now when he and Prowl were going to try out one of the higher end bathhouses near their new dwelling. It was not one that either of them had used before, but it has the reputation of being well kept, quiet, and entirely worthy of its high rating. That was enough to convince Prowl to go. Not that he took that much convincing to follow Jazz somewhere these orns, something that was a matter of quiet pride for Jazz. The trick was getting Prowl out of his office. After that, he was generally willing to comply with Jazz's wishes.

Which led them to transform in front of the tower and walk in. This level and the eight above it were a shopping hub for the district. Everything from crafts to spare parts to services of all kinds were available, but the bathhouse that dominated the first level was the goal today. Prowl was still a touch distracted less than three breems after leaving the office, but Jazz was used to it. He'd learned early on that Prowl took the better part of a joor to completely untangle his processors from his job. It was time Jazz was inclined to give, especially once he had worked out that if he gave Prowl the time to wrap things up for the orn, the mech generally left work on the back burner until the next orn.

"Well, so far so good." He commented softly as they stepped in the doors, leaving the noise of the shopping district outside and stepping into an island of peace and calm.

The lobby was soothing, arrayed in neutral colors easy on the optic, and the slender femme that approached them moved with a smooth, welcoming grace. "Welcome to the bathhouse. What may we do for you this orn?"

"A quiet end to an orn." Jazz said with a smile. "A hot oil soak and a standard detailing."

The femme smiled, looking at Prowl to see if he was going to add anything before motioning towards a door. "Of course. If you will follow me."

She led to a standard communal wash area, meant for mecha to rinse off the dirt and grime of the outside world before they enjoyed a soak in the oil bath. "I will take your credits now, please." She said, accepting each of their sticks and deducting what they had requested. "There is a variety of cleaners for your use. Please take all the time you like. If you require additional things, that button will summon an attendant. Is there anything else I can get for you now?"

Prowl shook his head slightly, only manners keeping him from getting under the hot spray the moment he had his credit stick back.

Jazz smiled as she handed back the credits and watched in amusement as Prowl practically dove under the hot spray once they were alone. As public as the wash was, he was glad that it was unusually empty for this time of the orn so that Prowl could indulge in a way that he knew the other mecha would not in front of the after work crowd, even if others were doing the same thing.

"Let me know when you are ready and I'll wash your back and wings, if you want," Jazz offered like he always did before he stepped under his own spray. A hard vent escaped him as the hot solvent ran into seams and breaks in his armor and washed over plating, rinsing away the worst of the signs of the long orn before he actually started to scrub. Since he drove around all over the city all orn delivering packages while Prowl sat sedately in an office hooked into the city's network, Jazz was significantly more dirty than Prowl. It didn't make much difference to how much the Praxian loved being freshly clean. It seemed to be the only aspect of having a frame that had really clicked with him. Clean was good. Clean was civilized.

Clean meant _safe_.

"I will," Prowl replied quietly, shivering faintly under the hot spray before fluffing his armor out as far as it would go to draw the rain of cleanser under his armor and all the way to his protoform. His field relaxed as it did few other places and was soon teasing the edge of Jazz's with Prowl's pleasure, and that it wasn't entirely physical.

There was a matching edge of pleasure in Jazz's field, welcoming the warmth and the rare relaxed state of his roommate. The worst of the grime off he reached for a rather rough textured brush and a strong scrub, working at his plating and muffling another sigh of _good_.

"Scrub your back?" Prowl asked without turning on his optics or looking over. He didn't actually need a scrub-down, but Jazz absolutely did. Once Jazz was clean, he knew he could indulge in the long cleaning that made him tingle all over and made Jazz's field light up with pleasure.

"Any time you care to move." Jazz answered agreeably, still scrubbing away at the parts of his own frame that he could reach, appreciation of the offer, however standard, bright in his field for Prowl to feel.

Though he didn't care to move at all, Prowl turned off his showerhead, picked up a brush and cleanser bottle walked over to Jazz, squeezing the cleanser on the brush as he moved. His first stroke of the brush across Jazz's shoulders was strong and firm, long familiar with how to clean Jazz's frame in an efficient manner that was also pleasing to the owner.

Jazz moaned blissfully, leaning into the touch as his own efforts faded away to enjoying someone else caring for him. Someone that he had to admit he trusted, as he loosened his armor to make it easier for Prowl to reach the dirt that had accumulated there. Pleasure flickered back at him, something he knew from experience not to give too much attention too, lest Prowl back off. The Praxian wasn't comfortable with the idea that he _cared_ about Jazz, or anyone, really, and it had taken him the better part of a decaorn to settle back to normal the first and last time Jazz had brought it up.

Instead Jazz focused on the wonderful sensation of being clean that starting to tingle across his plating, relaxing into the cleaning and bending just a little to expose more of his side and a place that had been bothering him more than usual. "Back there above the hip joint..." He prompted, earning an immediate shift to the location and more focused action on Prowl's part to get whatever it was out until Jazz sighed with the bliss of the irritant removed.

Through it all, the better part of a joor where every micrometer of Jazz's frame was thoroughly and meticulously cleaned, Prowl didn't say a single thing and neither did Jazz, other than the occasional direction to a spot that needed extra attention. Their fields spoke for them in a way that neither had to fully acknowledge the feelings. The depth of care. The affection. The growing loyalty that was not natural to either of them.

Jazz straightened with a hum of contentment when Prowl backed off, slipping under the spray for a final rinse with his armor completely fluffed out.

"My turn to scrub you?" He asked with a smile.

"Yes." The simple word and even, unaltered glyph belied the subtle harmonics it was delivered with, something else they both tactfully ignored. The moment was not worth ruining for forcing Prowl to acknowledge what he couldn't control.

With a flicker of reluctance Jazz turned off the solvent and moved to the cleaners, selecting brushes that were appropriate for Prowl's frame and non-existent level of dirty, as well as a scrub that would clean and help shine the other's armor to a soft, everyday finish.

"Any particular place to start this time?" He asked as he turned back to the other. The words were almost more ritual now than needed, but sometimes even Prowl deviated from his normal, so Jazz still asked.

"My neck has been bothering me," Prowl murmured, uneasy with admitting it but not so uneasy he wasn't going to get help. "I think something is in there."

"Right. Just a klik." Jazz said, maneuvering around and finding something to stand on so that he could reach the spot on the taller mech. He rested a light hand on Prowl's shoulder, field at ease as he investigated visually, then ran slender fingers along the mass of cabling.

"Don't see anything, but that doesn't always mean-ah." A flare of self satisfaction rippled through his field as he found and dislodged a small stone. Gentle fingers ran over the spot a second time, checking for more before he dropped back down. "That do it?"

Prowl rolled his helm at his neck's full deflection, a tiny bit of relief mixed into a greater relaxation in his field. "Yes, thank you."

"Good. Sing out if there is anything else." Jazz instructed as he picked the brush and scrub back up and started on base of Prowl's wings, working carefully around the sensor appendages before moving on to the actual wings themselves.

It had taken some study, thankfully Wing was a willing subject, and several attempts before Jazz had started to work out the best way to clean wings of any sort. A while longer to tailor the process to Prowl, but there was something in the way that the other mech relaxed almost to the point of melting into the attention that made all the effort worth it. It felt good in a very strange way to have such pleasure against his field and know to his very spark that it wasn't sensual, that the mech wasn't going to ask anything more of him. Sure Prowl was a fantastic 'face, but it was all technique and no passion. Perfunctory in every sense.

A soft moan snuck out of Prowl's vocalizer when Jazz reached the slender wingtips. Jazz allowed a smile that Prowl could not see, even if he muted the pleasure in his field and indulged in spending extra time in that area. It was almost with regret that he finally stepped back.

"Ready for rinse." He commented softy as he dropped the brush in the used bin and replaced the scrub on the rack. He heard the shift in the shower as it went from solvent to rinse, the small shift in mass changing the echo made against Prowl's armor. Most of all he heard the motion as Prowl shifted, turned, flexed and shifted armor to allow the since to wash away the solvent.

"Hot oil?" Prowl hummed, relaxed as he rarely was when he turned to face Jazz again. His field was relaxed, licking at the edges of Jazz's in a platonically affectionate way.

"That's what we're here for." Jazz pointed out, a touch of amusement lacing the response as he started for the door opposite the one they had entered, pleased with the timing as several other mecha entered the washroom just then. He felt Prowl's field around the mech's hand before he felt the touch along his back and was hard pressed not to press into it. It was so rarely that Prowl touched without a reason. Neither stopped walking, but Jazz didn't miss the looks they got from the group coming in. The assumption was there that they were lovers at the very least. Even if creating that assumption was the only reason that Prowl was doing it Jazz wasn't going to argue, the touch soothing on a level that he was very hesitant to reveal even now. It was a personal weakness, and one that was going to be satisfied far less often now that they had moved out of the Citadel and he no longer shared quarters with Wing. The young jet was always agreeable for touching, snuggling, 'facing, no questions asked.

A large, hot pool of oil dominated the next room, multiple doors leading in and out the area. The pool itself was set into the floor, with various levels of steps and seating scattered around the edge and throughout the liquid to accommodate many frame types and sizes. There were a few mecha there, mostly in pairs or threes. One group still made them both uncomfortable, even two vorns away from the war. A Seeker trine wasn't something the Autobots had. The few Seekers they knew on friendly terms were all loners, or at most had a single wingmate.

Prowl's touch guided them to a place that gave them space from the others as well as a good view of the various doors between them.

Jazz slid into the oil first, not even trying to hide sigh of satisfaction or the flare of sheer pleasure in his field as his frame sank into the hot liquid. "Going to have to find someone for regular maintenance soon." He commented, mostly thinking out loud as he moved to give Prowl space. He knew from experience that from the moment his toeplate touched the oil to after he'd fully submerged and came back up to settle, Prowl wasn't really paying attention to much else.

The sharp pulse of pleasure, at least as intense as anything interfacing could draw from him, washed against Jazz's field. As good as it felt to Jazz, he knew, at least in relative terms, that it was as good as anything Prowl could experience. As pleasurable as interfacing but without any of the demands.

With another sigh Jazz found a place to settle, armor loosening to allow the oil to seep deeper, his protoform tingling from the warmth, and waited for Prowl to settle well. It didn't take long before the ways of pleasure rolling off the Praxian made it difficult to think about anything other than touching that gorgeous frame. It was perfectly acceptable, socially. It just wasn't with Prowl. Jazz had to pause at that thought when it didn't phrase true. Prowl was actually fine with it, in his own strange way. It would be humiliating for the mech with him, however.

"You're thinking too hard," Prowl murmured as he sank into position next to Jazz, his wings loosely flared along with his armor.

"That's saying something, coming from you." Jazz said, tilting his helm to better look at his companion and try to work out these odd deviations in the other mech. They were small, but small with Prowl was even extreme.

"You are thinking too hard _for you_," Prowl elaborated with something that might have been a chuckle.

Jazz debated for several kliks before admitting the truth. "Thinking about you, and how much you enjoy this." This being everything that Jazz had never experienced back on Cybertron. A tank constantly full of good quality energon, not having to look over his shoulder every other nanosecond for danger, even if he still did out of habit.

The large pool of hot oil that they were relaxing in, just lengths from a Seeker trine and in the middle of an entire group of strange mecha.

Prowl's engine purred slightly. "Short of what I was sparked to be, this is paradise now that I have a somewhat useful function. It's very nice. The praise they're always giving me is strange, but I'm getting used to that too."

"They aren't used to mecha like you." Jazz pointed out, leaving out the fact they weren't really used to mecha like Jazz either. From what he had gathered, a mech like him never would have passed the screening to be allowed on the exodus. It was a thought had him shifting unconsciously closer to Prowl, though still not touching.

A soft caress of understanding slid between their fields as Prowl nodded. "Outside of my caretakers when I was still part of Praxus, I doubt anyone is, or was. Autobot command was little better than here in using me to my full potential, and they definitely did not like having me around."

Jazz slid closer, questions that were going to have to wait for later when they were back in private spinning in his processor. "Here is different." He finally settled on.

"Very different," Prowl agreed. "How are you coping?" he glanced over, something resembling concern in his field, though it wasn't concern like Wing teeked it. "I know this is quite a downgrade for you."

Jazz shook his helm. "Still an upgrade. Here I am at least..." _Free_ was not a word he would use, could use. Maybe ever. But here he was allowed to choose what he wanted to do, and had the resources to make those decisions a reality. "Able to do something different."

"Courier is an upgrade?" Prowl cocked his helm, completely bewildered by the assertion.

Jazz's field rippled, bad memories swirling to the surface. He hadn't _liked_ what he had to do for his functioning before. He has simply been doing what was needed to survive. Here...had chosen to be a courier from a list of occupations. And it was a functioning that he could walk away from at any time, with no repercussions. "Yes."

The memories, the oddness in Prowl's field, the sense of relaxation from the oil and warmth...all of it played into Jazz finally moving against Prowl's frame in a full length cuddle. Prowl stiffened for a brief moment, then relaxed and allowed it. Gently he slid an arm around Jazz and held him lightly.

"Then I am glad for you," Prowl murmured. "Is it what you wish to remain?"

"At least for now. There are several other occupations that I'm considering. Maybe even splitting my time between two or three, so I don't get bored." There was a flare of amusement there, along with the underlying reminder that a bored Jazz was a troublesome Jazz. The stink over the time that he had put dye in some of the city fountains was still talked about, even if it had been a mostly harmless prank. At least Wing had thought it was funny, and even Demeter, who could usually be counted on to be entirely too serious, had snickered once the leadership was out of hearing range. It had been telling that everyone looked at Wing when it had first come up, but none had actually challenged his assertion that he didn't do it.

"What else are you interested in?" Prowl's voice was soft as they relaxed, almost snuggled together in the hot oil. A low moan escaped him as a tiny shift opened up a new part of his protoform for the liquid heat to ooze against.

"Wing mentioned exploring the planet, probably stuff like charting more of the areas that they only did initial scans on when they settled. It would give me something new, once I've seen all there is to see in the city." Jazz answered, field and frame companionably warm against Prowl's. "Might keep me out of trouble for a little while." He joked.

"If only because you will be out of range of anything they deem capable of being trouble," Prowl's voice was deadpan, but his field belied his light amusement. "Have you thought of entering any of the dance competitions? Some of them offer rather impressive prizes."

"A little. Never seriously." Jazz answered, systems purring softly in pleasure as he leaned into Prowl. "Dancing is fun, not work." It was the one thing that he did, had always done, just because he wanted to. And selfishly he wanted to keep it that way.

"I calculate a 98.7% probability that you would place well enough for a prize if you did," Prowl offered, completely clueless at to Jazz's reluctance. "You are quite an impressive dancer."

"Your vote of confidence is very encouraging. It I ever _need_ to, I will. But for now it is just a hobby." Jazz replied, unable to put into the words the desire in his spark. "What about you? Looking for more to do?"

"Yes," he huffed a soft sigh. "I am learning the value of gaming, however. It is successfully using enough of my processor power to keep me from acting out."

Amusement rippled through Jazz's field, expressed in his next question. "So how many mecha are you flattening an orn? And how many at once?"

"It ... is not that kind of game," Prowl hesitated. "They don't have war-games, not even basic ones. I've been playing a government sim, for lack of a better description. Mostly against myself. There are very few willing to play in the same game as I do."

"Tinkering with theoretical changes and what they would do, even if you would never be allowed to implement them, no matter how effective?" Jazz guessed, voice soft enough to not really carry beyond the mech he was snuggled against.

"Building a city from the foundation up. Praxus, Vos, Kaon, New Crystal City, Tyger Pax, ones that just gave me a random set of mecha and location, sometimes on Cybertron, sometimes not." He shook his helm. "It's just busywork, something to do so I don't start to shut down. It's enough though, for now. It should be enough until I'm allowed to have more duties."

"Glad you found something to do." Jazz rested his helm on Prowl's shoulder. Somewhere in the back of his processors he was noting that Prowl was unusually willing for physical contact than usual. He'd almost always tolerate it, but this was beyond tolerating. It might even be beyond accepting it, though he wasn't sure. Either way it was a rare indulgence for Jazz, and one that he was taking full advantage of until Prowl protested.

"Yes. And you, both for work and to unwind," Prowl murmured. "I never anticipated that I might have to adapt to a post-war existence."

"I didn't expect to live to see post-war." Jazz admitted, one hand reaching up to touch Prowl gently, over the data-sharing port they normally used. It brought the now-familiar shiver of pleasure and arousal from Prowl, a reaction that always left Jazz with mixed feelings. He knew it was his problem too. He'd spent enough time hardlined with Prowl to know that all the way to his spark, Prowl was content with the way pleasuring worked for him. He enjoyed what he got and did not care that others enjoyed differently, or more. Prowl enjoyed, in his own way, bringing another to overload the way it happened for him. Jazz had felt that too, and it was the part he understood best.

It was power. Prowl was a mech that had never had personal power in his existence. He'd been sparked into a set of core coding his spark was fully compatible with and it didn't include such things as desiring personal power. Yet he did know that desire, in a warped and mangled way, from when the emotional and social protocols for a mech were uploaded and forced to integrate. No one there had counted on Prowl fighting to retain his original sense of self. Only a handful of the protocols installed fully, a few others got bits of their code into him, and it very nearly offlined him from the trauma. This, the enjoyment of pushing another to overload, helpless in Prowl's arms while Prowl himself was barely charged enough to feel a strong tingle, was all that remained of the protocols defining personal power.

Jazz had to admit to himself that the universe got lucky that joor. Prowl's concept of power had been completely corrupted, but it hadn't gone the way of Megatron. It so easily could, and Jazz could see that even if Prowl couldn't. He suspected several Knights saw it too. The two generals at the very least definitely did. The way Dai Atlas responded to Prowl was all the evidence Jazz needed of that.

A small shiver passed through Jazz's frame at the kiss, so unexpected and warm, as Prowl pulled him into his lap and lightly traced a dataport while his own slid open.

"I'll take that as a yes." He murmured against Prowl's lips before initiating another kiss, dataport sliding open at the soft touch but doing little more than offering. This was Prowl's place of control, and one of the rare times in his functioning that Jazz was willing to relinquish almost total control to another. There was a rare trust that the bright mech refused to admit existed for another that Jazz had in Prowl. Trust that made something like this possible.

Strong, sure fingers slid along Jazz's back before Prowl made quick work of connecting them and settled his hands back around his lover. Connection protocols ran, IDs exchanged and verified, and they smoothly slipped into a joint space; Jazz in Prowl's awareness and Prowl inside Jazz's. This had changed between them as well, in a small way. Prowl was learning to enjoy a slower buildup, and now that Jazz didn't push the interface by trying to return what he was given so much, Prowl had taken to opening with a smooth flow of energy that simply spread a pleasant warmth through Jazz.

It was also light enough that they could converse for some time before Jazz became distracted.

For the moment Jazz simply relaxed into the strong hold and _purred_ at the warmth spreading through him, welcoming it and all the security it brought and allowing that pleasure to be his offering in return. Finally settled into the connection, he started to speak once more. ~Are you still planning to try and escape?~

~I am planning to try.~ Prowl murmured, the thought quiet even here. He lowered his forehelm to rest against Jazz's. ~I can not abandon the Prime until my tac-net has determined that my presence will not matter.~ With the words came subtler things, markers of coding that Prowl could not disobey without shorting himself and his tac-net out. ~They could not stop me from trying to survive, but they ensured I could not defect.~

A wave of disgust and sadness rose in Jazz, though there was no surprise or shock. He really hadn't agreed with the ideals or ambitions of either of the main factions in the war. He just had a stronger dislike, bordering on almost hate, for the Decepticons. ~Is the fact that you are making an effort to return enough to keep the coding happy? At least for now?~

~Yes. Tactics are not just the split-nanoklik decisions made on a battlefield. Some plans take vorns, even decades to implement. So long as I am moving forward in gathering the data or materials I require, I am following my orders to return. The first step in that was to get out from under constant surveillance and full access to their datanets. Now I need a ship capable of making the journey. That is a much more difficult effort.~

Jazz contemplated that as he slipped in and out of the energy induced warm haze that was being connected to Prowl over the hardline. It wasn't that he wasn't focusing, he was simply taking his time. To someone who had survived functioning so long on those nanoklik decisions, it was a different way of thinking. One that he often only managed effectively when he was like this. ~Have you managed to locate any prospects in the city, or are we going to have to look farther?~

~There are hints, a glaring lack of data on what was done with three of the shuttles they came with,~ Prowl focused on that. ~The records are meticulous. When each ship was taken apart, exactly what came from it, what specifically was built with each part. Yet there are records of two shuttles and an interstellar shuttle in inventory at landing, but not what happened to them. That interstellar shuttle is the only possible escape, if it can be found, repaired and stocked.~

A soft hum of consideration accompanied the processing of that data, and the myriad of questions that it raised. ~What can I do to help?~ Jazz asked, seeking specifics that would aid Prowl on top of his own initiatives.

~Look for the shuttle,~ Prowl answered quickly, including all the data he'd gleaned on the craft from records he didn't technically have access to. ~It should not be far from the city, if it is not within the parameter.~

Jazz pondered that as Prowl stroked his back, generating small tingles of charge as well as keeping up appearances. ~I will look in the city first. And if it is not there I will push for the explorer job.~ He smiled inwardly. ~But then I will likely be bored and causing trouble again, so I imagine I will not have to plead my case very hard.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl's gratitude mingled with a thick, warm pulse and kiss as he pulled Jazz closer.

The emotion, coming from Prowl, meant so much more, and was more the cause of the moan and surge of pleasure in his field than energy. ~Thank me when we find it.~

~I will,~ Prowl promised, his next kiss just as soft but a bit more intense to match the pulse of energy than came with it. Prowl's hands became focused, but he was in no hurry. That was new too, that the pulses didn't come in perfect synch with Jazz's spark. One set did, but they were so small it was barely more than exciting, a tingle that spread through Jazz's systems. The stronger ones came slower, more in time with the movements of Prowl's hands along his back and sides.

The mech in his arms shivered at the touch, at the changes, focusing on them with something akin to amazement but making it clear that he was enjoying every nanoklik of attention. Attention that Prowl rarely gave, and Jazz would never have accepted from anyone else in such a setting. It felt amazingly good to be the center of Prowl's universe like this, and at the same time know that Prowl was completely alert for him and would never lose track of the room and everything in it.

Gradually the stronger pulses got stronger and more rapid, but they never matched his spark like the smaller pulses did. It was enough that soon his entire frame was quivering, soft moans filtering over the hardline with no conscious control from the mech they were issuing from. It was a build-up, slow, controlled. And when it finally pushed Jazz to the point of release it came on a tide of pleasure washing around him.


	8. Reworking Plans

and it finally reaches sticky smut. See Ao3 for the full chapter.

archiveofourown dot org/works/631313/chapters/1218095

**Grasping a Chance 8: Reworking Plans**  
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Prowl wasn't granted much warning the orn Jazz came bounding through the door of their apartment, field flaring with unrestrained excitement before he pounced on the other mech, one hand already pressed against Prowl's dataport and the smaller frame quivering with excitement. Prowl raised an optic ridge at him but slid it open as he tugged them towards the berth they shared. Even here, he tried to keep up appearances, and it was always easier to be on a berth when Jazz overloaded.

Jazz was already open and offered by the time they hit the berth, barely waiting for them to get settled and reign in his excitement enough to give Prowl the lead.

~What did you find?~ Prowl's amusement at the excitement was easy.

~I found our shuttle.~ Jazz announced, exactly how pleased he was with himself singing over the connection, along with a undercurrent that was hoping for praise and approval. It came in a rush that wasn't exactly emotion, but was as intense as anything Jazz felt. Prowl's tac-net was _thrilled_ and almost instantly ramped into high gear. It was a blast of energy and 'good' that drew a deep moan from Jazz.

~Where?~

~Edge of the city. Supply storage area. Was delivering a rush piece for an equipment repair.~ Jazz managed around the moan, shivering at the intensity and trying to focus. ~Didn't seem to care that I saw it either. It's secured, but part of the security is the 'out of sight, out of processor' kind, I think.~

~Excellent. Did the hull seem in good repair?~ Prowl's excitement was intense, focused, mission-worthy of any Ops agent. ~How difficult will security be to get around?~

~Didn't get a good look at the hull. Just saw the engines. That's how I knew it was the right one. Security is light-mostly perimeter.~ Jazz was shaking in his arms, the intensity starting to affect him almost as effectively as Prowl's usual pulses of energy.

~You are best able to sneak in. Do so tonight. Learn all you can of the state of the shuttle and what it needs to reach Cybertron.~ Prowl ordered, though his soft moan was a reflection of how Jazz was feeling and the energy being reflected back to him. ~I will organize getting the supplies and skill we need to make it fly once I have your report.~

~Yes.~ Jazz agreed, his ability to process deteriorating rapidly, the directions logged subconsciously as his systems focused on other things. Prowl smiled and kissed him gently before focusing on pleasuring the mech in his arms with more excitement than he usually felt. Soon he'd be going home.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

It was early the next orn before Jazz returned from his mission, tired and with a neutral field as he slipped onto the berth next to Prowl. He wasn't surprised anymore to find the Praxian fully coherent, even when his field spoke clearly of the need to recharge. That tac-net never shut down, so on a level Prowl was never less than fully aware of his environment, short of stasis.

In a display of how well-programmed covert behavior was in the tactician, Prowl shifted and nuzzled him, his frame saying recharge-heavy interest in a morning interface even when his field said he really needed more rest.

"Even after I've been out all night?" Jazz purred, amused tone keeping with the illusion as his dataport drew back in offering.

Prowl mirrored the move, though he also drew Jazz closer, right up against him, before they quickly plugged in. ~What did you find?~ he was all business on the inside, even as his frame was playing lightly affectionate with Jazz's.

~It looks surprisingly structurally sounds.~ Jazz sighed, leaning into the physical affection on the outside and not able to stop the small quiver of need that filtered along the connection. ~I'm wondering if they weren't keeping it back in case of an 'emergency'. Looking through the cockpit screen it's been stripped of any sort of amenities, but I didn't have time to pick the hull lock for a look around inside. The security seems to run on a schedule. A couple more orns of observation should let us get around it easily enough.~

~Good,~ Prowl's relief, all coding based rather than personal, echoed with the response. ~What can I do to make this go smoothly?~

~Help me locate parts, once I figure out what is missing. A manual on this type of shuttle would be immensely helpful. Figure out where we can start diverting supplies from that they will not be missed.~ Jazz listed instantly, obviously having thought this over. ~If I am going to be doing most of the repair it is going to cut into my work time. We will need a cover story, and it will eat into your income more if I am not contributing as much.~

And really that was just the surface. Jazz was sure there was going to more as time went along and he was able to form a better picture of what sort of undertaking they had on their hands.

~My function provides more than sufficient credits for both of us with no loss of appearances. The returns on a few small investments will cover any losses your income suffers,~ Prowl assured him both of that and that he was willing to spend the credits. ~I will find the manual and supplies, though if you can find what its exact model is, or at least the class, it would be very helpful. I anticipate I will be able to do much of the work, once I download the necessary instructions. Approximately 91% of my function does not require my presence in the office. So long as I am able to log into the local net, I can perform my duties if anything time sensitive arrives. My aide has yet to stop hinting that I don't need to be physically present as much as I am. I will take him up on those statements in the coming orns to ensure that no one does expect me there when I do not have a meeting scheduled.~

Prowl gave a long pause. ~Do you have any preferences to the cover?~

~Not particularly.~ Jazz mused. ~I don't have much of a reputation to maintain, or lose. Something that gets me out more in the evenings would be beneficial.~

There was a period of hesitation before he finally suggested. ~I could start competing in dance competitions. Say I am bored with so much courier work. No one would think twice about my working less during the orn or you supporting my preference, or wonder where I am most of the time.~

~That is acceptable,~ Prowl nodded, leaning in to kiss him as his hands slid along Jazz's back to tease armor edges. ~So long as you manage enough practice to show well in the occasional competition. The shuttle is important, but so is maintaining the cover and appearance that we are settling in.~

~I will manage the practice.~ Jazz promised, frame arching into the touches as he moaned softly into the kiss.

~You are a very tactile mech,~ Prowl observed, repeating the touches before sliding his fingers deeper into gaps to tease the wiring and components beneath.

~Thank you.~ Jazz moaned across the connection, how much the physical attention worked for him filtering back to Prowl with the acknowledgement of how Prowl was indulging him by doing this. He shivered slightly as one hand slid down his back, teased over his hip and a finger circled on his spike cover.

~If you want.~

Excitement leapt across the connection, frame quivering at the touch as Jazz's spike cover slid away. ~Please. Like it a lot.~ Jazz admitted, liked the more intense physical aspect he experienced rarely.

Not so much for a lack of mecha that would be willing as a lack of mecha that Jazz was willing and able to trust so completely, to be so vulnerable around.

and it finally reaches sticky smut. See Ao3 for the full chapter.

archiveofourown dot org/works/631313/chapters/1218095


	9. Taking Punishment for Others

**Grasping a Chance 9: Taking Punishment for Others**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz booted up to a gentle but insistent caress to the dataport Prowl favored along with the slide of a hand down his flank. It was Prowl's field that was twined with his, and no others were nearby. The arousal there, desire for him, was definitely in Prowl's field. At this point Jazz knew every subtle flavor there, from 'I want to talk' to 'spike me senseless _right now_' and everything in between. This one held a bit of both. Prowl definitely wanted pleasure, but he wanted to talk to.

With only a small purr of protest Jazz's systems continued to boot, the cover to the dataport sliding back with the next pass of Prowl's fingers. Faint light shone as shaded optics lit his visor and Jazz tipped his helm for a soft kiss. He'd missed this, waking to the other mech and the pleasure that they had started to share more often, often not sure if it was his desire, Prowl's or a combination of both and not really caring.

Prowl plugged in smoothly, their outer firewalls dropping with little question and no effort to go deeper than was offered. While his hands caressed Jazz's frame, light and gentle for a slow build up, his processors were focused elsewhere.

~What do you know of the trial to come? It seems more formality than actual justice to me,~ Prowl asked as the gentle morning kiss was returned.

Jazz took a klik, letting his processors go back over everything that he had learned from Thorn and Wing. ~It is a formality, and justice to them. Though it makes no sense to me. Thorn said they would have the opportunity to plead their case and let it be judged by the Knights somehow, but neither of them are planning to do that. Basically it is going to be a listing of the crimes committed, and a delivering of the verdict and punishments by Dai Atlas.~

~Every mech has the right to plead guilty under Autobot law as well and it would only be a formality,~ Prowl pointed out. ~It does not sound drastically different from a military tribunal or court martial on Cybertron. The real differences come if one pleads innocent, or argue mitigating circumstances. Are we going to be there?~

~Yes. By their rules we have to be, which is the main reason it was put off until you were functional again. We are required to be there for the punishments as well.~ A small shiver of sympathy whispered over the connection with that bit of information. Jazz had witnessed a Knight's penance once before, a memory that was never going to fade in his processor.

~Breaking struts, if that is all it will be, is quick compared to that,~ Prowl said gently, caressing his lover with gentle hands and a soft mental touch. ~You must admit, if you have any care for your keeper it is an effective deterrent to be forced to witness them be hurt so much for your deeds.~ He sighed softly and kissed Jazz again. ~We will soon see exactly what kind of leader and justice the Knights believe in. From where I stand in my knowledge of this place, an escape attempt should be considered treason. That execution isn't likely is ... interesting.~

It ticked the back of Jazz's processors, that Prowl wasn't quite as organized or concise as he had been. He had no way of knowing if it was a temporary thing, part of his processors realigning without the controls they'd once had, or if it was permanent damage.

He touched over that, even as he accepted the comfort that Prowl offered, the odd grounding the mech still provided and that Jazz had never realized he needed until he had experienced it. ~They have always expressed an interest in rehabilitating instead.~ Jazz mused. ~And most of the main population is mecha that were screened thoroughly before they were ever brought along. It's something that may have to change in the future, whether they like it or not.~

Slowly one of Jazz's hands rose and smoothed over Prowl's side, asking if the touch would be allowed before Jazz pressed too much farther.

~Yes,~ Prowl murmured, answering both statement and query. His own hands slid along Jazz's sides, along his hip to caress his spike cover, then further down towards the valve. ~Is it just because I prefer my valve that I've never touched yours?~

~Yes. You always expressed a preference for being spiked, so...~ There was a sort of mental shrug that covered a nanosecond of hesitation, of a deeper sort of not sure that was quickly buried. ~But it's something I enjoy just as much.~

Prowl hummed, a little quirk along the line telling Jazz that Prowl knew it wasn't quite the full answer but wasn't inclined to push. The path of his fingers slipping up to stroke Jazz's spike cover was answer enough for what he wanted this morning.

The cover remained closed, the same hesitation in Jazz's field before he finally got the question out. ~What do you want from me? Of me?~ The undertones and edges of the glyphs went far deeper than the current request for an interface, hinting at the future and things beyond the physical. It was enough to make Prowl still completely, physically and mentally.

The mental shiver was one that Jazz recognized, a core-level debate about just how vulnerable Prowl was willing to make himself with his answer. It settled quickly, but Jazz could pick up on new shields in the background and recognized the feel of those too. They made a place to hide, or to shove unwanted knowledge until it could be dealt with in a safer time and place.

The datastream narrowed, reducing Prowl's vulnerability to a direct reaction.

From Jazz's perspective, it created a clear picture of a mech who expected to be assaulted for what he was going to say.

~For you to stay close.~

Simple glyphs, almost unnaturally so, but within them were the eddies of trying to reach out, to accept what was inherently unnatural because it felt right. There too, in the underlying energy, was the second foundation of Prowl's existence; if it felt right, it would be taken away.

There was no assault except for the sudden release of tension on Jazz's side, acceptance of the statement and a desire to do so thick on its heels. ~I will stay. I thought that you no longer wanted or needed me.~ With that was revelation of just how closely the two were related in Jazz's processor, and a flashback of explanation, their work on the ship were Prowl had tried to send him away. Not just once, but twice.

~To protect you,~ Prowl murmured, somewhere between confused at the statement and relieved at the acceptance. ~I was willfully committing treason. You didn't need to be caught at it.~

~Why protect me?~ The question came back, full of curiosity.

Prowl's processors balked at answering. He didn't have an answer, not a real one, and he knew it.

~I like you.~ He eventually got the jumble of _what else would I do_ down to something manageable.

~Not because you had to. Not because of some coding driven need. Because you liked me. And still do?~ There was amusement and hope in the words, Jazz's frame shifting closer, visor to Prowl's optics.

~Yes,~ Prowl mentally caught his ventilations, holding completely still. Part of him was still terrified that admitting meant losing. Part of him was so desperate for it to work this time he was still taking the risk.

Jazz's helm tipped forward, catching Prowl's lips once more in a gentle kiss. ~You don't have to. It was my job to take care of you.~ He murmured, hand stroking along Prowl's frame to brush over Prowl's valve cover. It slid open immediately, the equipment beyond it already warm.

~I destroy enough lives. I had a chance to give you a good future,~ Prowl trembled into the kiss, his processors tumbling further from their logical core. ~I wanted... I didn't want you to return to the war.~

~And now we are not.~ Jazz smiled, spike extending as he nuzzled at Prowl, warm and welcoming and offering now that he was settled and looking to settle Prowl. He'd learned that tick too, in their time here. Pleasure, _physical_ action was the most effective way to bring Prowl back to level. Even without an overload for Prowl, it could often cause a kind of reset for him when Jazz did.

As always, Prowl welcomed the touch, the offer that was coming. He knew it meant his processors would still, accepting the physical contact for comfort and acceptance that still felt like a novelty. His hands moved down Jazz's back, stroking and teasing, encouraging the lighter mech to continue.

Jazz chuckled aloud, the sound gentle amusement as he guided Prowl to his back and moved over the other mech, hand slipped to tease over the offered valve. ~Much has changed.~ Jazz observed, motions never stopping.

~Yes,~ Prowl moaned, not entirely following Jazz's thought but not really carrying. Of course things had changed. Change was the one constant in the universe. His entire frame moved into the touch and the promise it held as he tried to stop thinking, just for a moment.

Jazz smiled, spike sliding into the slick, hot valve. A moan escaped as he leaned down to kiss Prowl, enjoying the tight squeeze around his spike. His field rippled with pleasure, both physical and his enjoyment of doing this for Prowl, of how in its own way being with him was better than any lover he'd ever had. He felt Prowl move in reply, the pleasure quickly swelling in the Praxian's field. Only a few thrusts in and Prowl was at his limit, but Jazz could hold him there for as long as he wanted to.

Holding him there, prolonging the pleasure that both of them felt, was a skill that Jazz had developed and was still working on. Smooth, easy thrusts that that created waves of pleasure that washed through them both, Prowl's consistent and Jazz's rising with each motion.

Jazz kissed him again, moaning as his charge grew and his coherency started to fall. "Soon. Sorry." He murmured, hoping that it would be enough for Prowl.

"Never be sorry," Prowl moaned into another kiss. "Not your fault what I am."

"You are Prowl." Jazz managed when the kiss broke, a simple answer as he buried his face in Prowl's shoulder, rhythm faltering as energy crackled over his plating and then flared through his frame in a roaring overload.

It was bliss that blasted over the hardline between them, Jazz moving until his frame locked from the strength of the charge, then collapsed on the other mech when it released him into a pleasurable haze. Jazz remained distantly aware that Prowl's hands continued to stroke his back, Prowl's charge long gone, absorbed by the specialized systems that seemed to rule his reality, though perhaps not him. Not completely, at any rate. If felt strange, to know he'd barely aroused his lover and yet feel content with it. Yet this was Prowl and Prowl did not build up much of a charge. Jazz had to be content with it to be with him.

"We should visit the washracks if we are going to make a formal appearance," Prowl said calmly, still stroking Jazz's back.

"We should." Jazz agreed from where he was sprawled on Prowl, content to stay where he was for the moment. "Should get you fueled too, keep Redline happy."

"Medics are a universal truth," Prowl quirked his mouth and nudged Jazz. "Up now. I'm sure our keepers are getting impatient."

With clear reluctance Jazz unplugged, claiming another kiss before he climbed from Prowl's frame and offered the other mech a hand up. Even after all this time, Prowl seemed surprised by the small kindness, though he wasn't always surprised by it. They walked into the living room and were immediately herded out the door and towards the public washracks. An energon cube was pressed into Prowl's hand and three more were handed to Jazz 'for later' according to Wing.

Jazz obediently subspaced the cubes in a place were they would be easily accessible, quiet as he picked up on the fields of their keepers.

The Knights were somber. They knew what was coming and were not looking forward to even the mildest of penances they were due. That didn't mean they weren't going to face it with the dignity and acceptance that had been trained into them.

"Scrub your back?" He offered Prowl as they entered the washracks, following the other mech over to one of the open solvent sprays and reaching around to turn it on so it could warm a little.

Prowl could only nod, drawing officer protocols around himself in a shield of sorts. It was all he had to get him through the trial and punishment he was the sole cause of.

Clean up was quick and efficient, removing the transfers and fluid evidence of their activities. Jazz stole a klik and simply leaned against Prowl's back before he finished, sharing the warmth and comfort of frame and field. He knew Prowl needed it right now.

"Polish?" He inquired, willing if Prowl was. He looked to Wing and Thorn to see if they had the time as well and saw Wing working to make the gold of Thorn's wings shine.

"Yes," Prowl said softly. "A good daily finish will have to do. We don't have time for more."

It bothered Prowl too, but there was no point in voicing that.

"I don't need one." Jazz offered quietly, selecting a nice polish and starting in carefully on one of Prowl's wings, the motions firm enough to not tickle and create the clean shine that looked so good on the elegant sensor panels without crossing the line into irritating or painful.

Truth was, Jazz felt little need for one as well. He had reached the point where he made sure that he was more than merely presentable for dance competitions, but other than that he rarely bothered with the effort of more than the most basic of shines after a good cleaning.

"We have time to get your finish up to par, Prowl," Thorn said quietly, accepting the pleasure of Wing's hands on his wings. They both knew the appendages weren't going to be feeling good for some time.

"Thank you," Prowl murmured, leaning gently into Jazz's touch, enjoying the physical contact and giving himself over to the moment and feeling cared for. The rest of the polishing went in silence, Jazz having plenty of time to bring Prowl up to a VIP shine, one step below an inspection's mirror finish, while the two Knights polished each other. When Prowl washed Jazz, his touch was smooth and perfectly calibrated to clean in a pleasant way, and despite the turmoil the Praxian was feeling, there was definite affection for Jazz in it too.

The mech under his hands enjoyed the attention, a soft sigh escaping his systems as they relaxed some of the tension that he had been carrying. No matter how bad the situation, there was something about being cared for and cleaned, the warm solvent and gentle touches, that could not be denied.

Even if it all came to an end far too soon, as Jazz forced himself to turn off the solvent and stepped over to dry after a final rinse. Prowl caught him with a gentle hand that slid behind Jazz's neck, drawing him into a soft, intimate kiss that left them both nearly shaking.

When the kiss broke Jazz's hand reached up, fingers brushing Prowl's chest lightly enough to not endanger the polish work done, but so reflective of the longing and the need for comfort they understood, and the need for Prowl that he still didn't.

Another nanosecond and his attention turned to the Knights, checking on the progress and looking to their lead. Thorn was just replacing the polish he had used on Wing and was depositing the used polish rag in the laundry as Wing checked his reflection, the white Knight's action more habit than any suspicion that a spot had been missed.

Prowl simply nodded at Jazz's glance and followed him the few steps to the drying room, where they allowed the blowers to do their work. No one spoke as the Knights joined them, fresh rags used to get stubborn bits of liquid off their frames until all four were presentable. All but Jazz had a better-than-usual finish.

Thorn looked them all over, nodded and motioned the group to follow him through the Citadel.

It was that walk that marked the orn as a truly different one. Not a single Knight was out. Not even the Initiates. The empty silence was eerie. It made Jazz shiver and he unconsciously drifted closer to Prowl. He knew the path they were taking, the council chamber. A place that wasn't necessarily connected with good memories to Jazz. The tension in their Knights' frames, the way Thorn led and Wing trailed, putting them in the middle, didn't help the mood.

When the huge double doors to the council chamber swung open for them, it was to a packed room. Every Knight, and likely every Initiate, were there. Those who had a seat, the full Knights, were all in theirs. A quick scan showed Jazz where Thorn and Wing typically sat. One towards the middle ranks, one towards the back. Along the back wall were the Initiates, standing and watching in uneasy silence.

Not a single mecha wanted to be there.

Dai Atlas looked at the four as Thorn led them to the right of the center, to the right of where the Sovereign of Light was standing while Wing tried to be unobtrusive in getting the two civilians to stand where he wanted them. Both Prowl and Jazz were curious if it was significant considering how ritualized much of the Knights' existence was but moved smoothly to Wing's field and barely-there touch until the young Knight was satisfied and stepped in front of them to stand by Thorn.

"Senior Knight Thorn, Junior Knight Wing," Dai Atlas spoke with all the grave formality of a Prime overseeing a capitol trial. "Your noxa have been charged with attempting to flee the city, theft of goods in excess of ten thousand credits, trespassing in a secured zone and lying to authorities by omission. Thorn, your noxa has also been charged with abuse of authority. How do you plead?"

"Responsible for guilt on all counts," Thorn inclined his helm, his wings folded and tucked tightly against his back.

"Responsible for guilt on all counts," Wing spoke calmly, as if this was accepting that he'd been caught sneaking out to fly rather than something that by rights could have a mecha executed.

Hearing the crimes they had committed listed out was another sobering blow, Jazz's frame going still as he contemplated all of that. All of them but the last were correct, accurate. The energon they had stockpiled alone, never mind the parts and materials they had stolen, were well over that amount. But..."You didn't." He whispered to Prowl.

"I used access granted by my job for the theft," Prowl explained, his voice just as low.

That made more sense to Jazz, and he quieted as understanding set in. His field reached out, brushing against Prowl's and trying to get a feel for how the other mech was doing. Prowl's field was tight, controlled, devoid of emotion and almost as devoid of movement as his frame. He teeked the way he looked; a perfect officer in a formal setting.

Dai Atlas accepted the guilty pleas and the whispered comments in the gathered Knights. Jazz and Prowl got a glare but no reprimand.

"Are there any mitigating factors to be considered?" The Sovereign asked, his gaze sweeping to the assembly as well as the accused.

"My charge was acting under the influence of coding and virus that was forced upon him without his consent. His actions are my fault, for not recognizing that he was being influenced by factors beyond his control." Thorn spoke, voice calm and even. There was nothing for him to gain by admitting this fact, but pointing it out where everyone could hear would help Prowl. At least this way the other Knights and Initiates would know that Prowl had not acted out of spite or malice or even a genuine desire to leave, and perhaps be kinder to him for it.

"What is the state of this virus now?" Dai Atlas asked for the record, his gaze moving to Redline, who stood to respond.

"It has been flushed from his coding to the best of my ability," the medic stated for the record.

"Is Prowl capable of answering truthfully as to the state of his processors?" Dai Atlas asked.

"Not directly," the medic shook his helm. "If any of the code remains capable of influencing him, it will continue to force him to state that nothing is wrong. It is possible to detect a conscious lie if given, but not if he is unaware of the influence."

A ripple of sadness went through Jazz at that, though he hid it well. Even with Prowl's assurances it touched on the other mech's doubts a little too deeply. Still, Redline was good. Very good, Jazz knew from the work that had been done on him, an if he had ever honestly prayed to Primus for anything, Jazz asked him now to free Prowl from anything that the medic might have missed.

"Then Prowl, even if granted citizenship, can not be without close supervision," Dai Atlas said gravely, his words carrying the weight of a Prime's edict.

Prowl twitched, but his field spoke of acceptance, even gratitude, along with sadness and something close to anger. It was all gone in under a spark pulse, but Jazz had caught it.

"Does Jazz have any mitigating circumstances?" Dai Atlas looked at Wing.

"May he speak for himself in this?" The white Knight managed to keep his voice steady.

Dai Atlas nodded, his gaze shifting to Jazz.

The other mech shrugged under the stern gaze, not intimidated or really even bothered by the look being bestowed on him. "I helped Prowl of my own free will. No one forced me to do anything. My actions are my own." His gaze flickered to Wing and back. "Not that it seems to make all that much difference to you all."

"It does when the penalties and penances are determined," Dai Atlas said gravely, his optics lingering on his youngest creation and softening for a brief moment before returning to Jazz. "Why did you join in the attempted escape?"

"Because Prowl needed my help." The entire reason, spoken in truth. Jazz harbored no personal desire to return to Cybertron and the war. At first his actions had been driven by survival instincts. But somewhere along the way, some point that not even Jazz could determine, his sphere of loyalty had shifted to include and then center around Prowl. After that, whatever Prowl had needed had become a priority because Prowl needed it, wanted it, and no other reason was necessary.

"Did you ever, for yourself, desire to leave this city?" Dai Atlas asked, his voice steady.

"Not after the first few metacycles. Never after we were out on own, of sorts." Jazz answered, completely honest. There had been a spell when he had first been learning about the city that he had contemplated leaving, but once he had realized that really what he saw when he had looked out from Wing's balcony was what was there only loyalty to Prowl had him planning to go.

"Do you have anything to add for this proceeding?" Dai Atlas gave Jazz the opening to say what he will.

"I'm not sorry for what I did, or my reason for doing it." Jazz declared, first and foremost, and felt Wing's field cringe. "I don't think that Wing should have to suffer for my actions, whatever your rules say. I don't particularly care to go anywhere else, and if Prowl is willing to be kept here under watch, mine or someone else's, I have no reason to leave."

"I am willing," Prowl said in his best officer impersonation. "I have no desire to leave. It is not logical."

It was a statement only Prowl could make and have taken seriously.

"So noted," Dai Atlas focused on Jazz. "Would you take the penances for your crimes as a Knight would to relieve Wing of it? The crimes can not go unpunished."

Wing's field quivered, vacillating wildly between a self-serving hope and what he'd been trained to believe was his duty, his responsibility. "You don't have to. He won't think less of you, I won't. I knew the risks when I argued to be your guardian."

"And you know that I've never understood being willing to take the punishment for others' actions." Jazz responded easily before facing Dai Atlas squarely, wanting the Sovereign to know that when he spoke it was the truth. "I am."

It was a step for Jazz, a huge one based in a belief and trust that had not existed before he landed here. He believed that he would survive their punishment. He trusted that they would not leave him to fend for himself.

He felt and heard shock ripple around the room, through Wing, but it resonated most strongly with Prowl. Or at least Prowl's shock was the one he cared about the most.

"You don't even know the full extent..." Wing snapped his mouth shut and forcibly muted his vocalizer at a reprimanding click from Dai Atlas.

"Very well," Dai Atlas' tone took on a slightly more resonant, approving quality. Impressed. "Wing will face the penances for his failures. Jazz will face the penalties and penances for his crimes as a Knight would." His focus shifted to Thorn and simply nodded. "You may speak if you wish, Prowl."

Jazz knew exactly what was happening in Prowl's processors. He knew the resonance of that field when the mech was in full-on tactician mode.

"I would argue for leniency, based on the lack of control I had over my own systems," Prowl spoke. "The law does recognize the circumstance of malware impairing a mecha's ability to make choices. The escape attempt and hiding it from authorities was purely the demand of the malware. How I organized and implemented the effort was my own."

Dai Atlas nodded, his deep ruby optics glittering as he focused on the Praxian and grasped what he was facing. Yet he had permitted the Praxian to speak, so until Prowl voluntarily stopped or did something out of line, the Sovereign was obligated to listen to what was beginning to sound like a skilled trial lawyer on Cybertron. It was disturbing, knowing what he did about Prowl's lack of such training.

He had a bad feeling that Prowl could talk his way out of the entire list of charges ... only he wasn't trying to. Like Jazz, he seemed to be willing to take responsibility. Though he didn't go so far as to suggest he might take the penances Thorn was facing. He was careful about that, the Sovereign noted, his processors going back to when he'd worked with high-level tacticians before. Often it was core programming to protect themselves as the critical asset they were. He had no doubt he was looking at that here, even if Prowl was not fully aware of it.

These youths had grown up even quicker than Wing had been forced to. They were both younger than Wing too.

It made his spark ache.

"With my help and encouragement." Jazz interjected at one point. That too was truth. Not only had he done nothing to hinder Prowl, he had actually encouraged him.

"Why?" Dai Atlas' attention focused on the youngest mech on trial.

"Because it was what needed, what was being demanded of him." Jazz answered.

The giant regarded him for a long, hard moment, absently noting that Prowl had silenced for the exchange. "Why not bring Prowl to Redline, given you both knew this was coding he did not want? I understand why Prowl could not. You, however, had no such restrictions."

Jazz was silent for a long time, fighting to find a good answer. Because part of him knew that Prowl was frustrated with life in the city.

"Because it was what Prowl said needed to happen." Not blame, but the reason he had gone along with it. "And because I didn't know what would happen if the coding was denied."

He did now. Knew that it had almost cost the other mech his functioning. It was still a recharge terror for Jazz sometimes, that feeling of Prowl fighting the shut down. Of Jazz doing everything he could to prevent it from happening. The personal terror of being alone once again.

He felt Wing's field caress his in support.

"Loyalty is a trait we value here, when tempered by good judgment," Dai Atlas said carefully, watching the four mechs. Both Knights he was proud of. They were handling this as well as anyone could hope to. The strangers were doing better than he'd anticipated. He wouldn't have been surprised to have them dragged in and restrained just to stand through this. Instead they were paying his culture and laws reasonable respect. "Given what you know now, would you aid him again, should the coding still exist?"

"I shouldn't have to choose." Jazz answered, much more softly this time and his attention focused on Prowl, and not the mech that was standing above them to deliver judgment. His field reached out to touch Prowl, pleading for the other mech to understand. "He said himself there is no reason for him to return, and therefore nothing for the code to act upon."

"Answer what you'd do if it did happen," Wing whispered to Jazz.

"I would do what was best for Prowl." Jazz finally said, sorting through how to sum up. "I would do whatever it took to keep him functioning. Since staying here offers the highest chances of that, I would call for help."

It was not a promise, but it was an intent. He felt something akin to shocked, spark warmed awe ghost through Prowl's field as the Knights considered his words.

"Very well," Dai Atlas accepted it. "Prowl, do you have anything else to add?"

Instead of launching back into the legal arguments that he'd begun, Prowl paused, looked around the room, his optics gliding over the mecha who controlled his existence now. From perfection to the Pits to a gilded cage, he would never have what he desired most, never have that existence again, but he was used to cages and this gilded one had kind keepers.

Eventually his gaze came to rest on Dai Atlas. "I want to be part of this city."

Relief flooded back from Jazz and the Knights standing with them. Relief that was rooted in different causes, but thankfulness that Prowl knew what he wanted, and that what he wanted was something that was _possible_.

The giant inclined his helm again. "Then if all have spoken," he paused, his gaze briefly meeting every set of optics in the room, "the penalties and penances will be read."

The room went silent. Wing was tense, worried for Jazz. Thorn was tense, knowing what was likely to come. Prowl was tense, shamed by what others were facing because he could not accept deactivation. The room was tense, knowing that an escape attempt could be a capitol crime, even if none believed that it would be in this case.

"Senior Knight Thorn, the penalty will be repayment of sixty percent of the value of all stolen goods that can not be returned. You will have full duty shifts for a metacycle, restricted to Prowl's security clearance. For the escape attempt, your penance is to have your wings broken cleanly. You may not seek a medic's care for a full orn and you must pay for such care that you receive when you do. You will have a binding of bronze."

The slender black Knight inclined his helm in acceptance of his fate.

"Junior Knight Wing, you will have full duty shifts for three metacycles, restricted to Jazz's security clearance. You will have a binding of black."

Wing nodded his acceptance, trying to hold back the quiver of relief that his wings wouldn't be harmed.

"Prowl, since there is a medical reason for your work, it will not be taken from you. However, you will be monitored much more strictly. You will remain at Thorn's side during his penalty duty shifts."

Prowl mulled it over and nodded, though it happened fast enough that only thoughts touching his field realized he wasn't just accepting.

"Jazz, the penalty will be repayment of forty percent of the value of all stolen goods that can not be returned. You will remain at Wing's side for his penalty duty shifts. For the escape attempt, your penance is to have your leg struts broken cleanly. You may not seek a medic's care for a full orn and you must pay for such care that you receive when you do. You will have a binding of red."

Jazz nodded in agreement. It was nothing more that he had been expecting, and nothing less. Another proof to him that while their justice may seem odd, it was at least consistent.

"All of you will witness the penances of the others," Dai Atlas finished. "I will oversee. Redline." He glanced at the chief medic, who stood and came to the floor with a grim look. No one said a thing as Dai Atlas led them down to the small collection of penance rooms.

Of the six, only Prowl had not been here before, and he was already twitching, even though he had nothing to face here but to witness the price of his weakness.

Jazz, while not eager for what was to come, was oddly calm in the face of what was going to happen. Perhaps it was because he knew, or at least thought he did, that he was neither frightened nor resisting as they walked down the quite hall that he had only visited once before and truthfully had never wanted to see again.

The Knights looked much the same, not eager but accepting, this place far more familiar to both of them than either of their charges.

They paused as Dai Atlas unlocked a door, then showed them into a large, empty room. Jazz absently identified it as the same one he'd been in before.

Without a word Thorn moved to the center and extended his arms over his helm, wrists back to back, and held there patiently as Dai Atlas secured him in place by a heavy chain. He backed away, and Redline stepped up.

"Spread your wings." The order was calm, even, and despite the way the black-veined golden wings trembled slightly as they were spread, Thorn did his best to be still.

Out of everyone in the room Jazz probably understood the fear the least, the distress radiating from Prowl and Wing was enough to test his self control, pushing at the survivor protocols that had kept him functioning his entire existence almost to the breaking point.

Powerful white hands gripped one wing; one hand just beyond the joint, the other halfway out. In a single, sharp motion the outer hand pulled back and a sharp crack echoed in the room. A nanoklik later the sensory feed reached Thorn's processors and he keened in pain, but managed to keep himself otherwise still.

Jazz flinched, quivering as he forced himself to watch as the process was repeated on the other wing with the same result. He watched as Thorn was released from the bindings holding him, supported through the pain until he was steady enough to stagger away and stand by Prowl, who offered his wing and side to lean on without a sound.

With a settling vent Jazz looked up, suspecting that his turn was next and bracing himself for what was to come. When Dai Atlas motioned him forward, he did so, though it was a fight against survival protocols to allow himself to be damaged in such a critical way. Still he managed as his arms were bound behind him and down, then he was guided to his aft and the chain secured to a place behind him. It was an unpleasant stretch, and it forced him to look at his legs, stretched out in front of him, as Redline brought a heavy metal two-ended clamp out.

The medic set the powerful device on the ground, the clamp by Jazz's leg. He couldn't help the quivering that started to run through his frame at the sight, or the vulnerability that it signaled. He just hoped it would be quick, clean, as promised and as Thorn's had been. It was a comfort in a way, to have a seasoned medic do the damage. If anyone could make breaking a main leg strut clean, it would be someone like Redline.

The clamps secured, a piston was set in place at the midpoint of the leg between the clamps and fired.

Pain tore through his frame, radiating out from his leg faster than his processor could keep up. His helm flew back, visor white and unseeing and mouth open in a silent scream of pain. A groan of agony did find its way out as the clamp was removed and carried to the other side of his frame, each small motion of the broken limb sending stabbing shots of pain through him.

His vents whined in distress as he sort of focused on the other leg, vision sharpening as the process of pinning his other leg and setting the piston was repeated. He could do nothing to counter the tensing of his frame as it prepared to repeat the experience, and he knew nothing that would help.

The second break put him on the verge of stasis, swaying in pain and only the bonds and clamps keeping him upright.

As soon as Redline removed the clamp and stood, Wing was there, careful hands and steadying field reaching for Jazz to make sure the struts were aligned and perform a quick field triage on them so Jazz could stand, however painful it might be to do so. Jazz felt his wrists freed as Wing finished and the young Knight was at his side, offering to helm him up, but not demanding to do so.

Jazz's gaze found Prowl in reflex, a little hurt in the pain induced haze clouding his thinking that the Praxian hadn't come to him, only to realize why. Though Prowl was supporting Thorn, the Praxian's optics were wide and sharp white, locked on the damage to Jazz's legs with horror.

That was enough to focus Jazz's processor through the pain as he gripped both of Wing's hands. "Up." He demanded, voice rough with static as he braced his frame and smothered the groan of pain as he was helped to his feet, weight shifting to lean mostly on Wing in an instinctive response to the pain in his legs that was ignored in favor of his focus on Prowl, field already reaching out to the other mech in assurance and concern.

As soon as Jazz was close enough for their fields to touch, Prowl snapped out of his horrified trance and reached back to try and support his lover.

"The bindings will begin when you have recovered," Dai Atlas spoke sternly, though his optics and sub-harmonics expressed concern and regret.

"I expect to see you both forty-two joors," Redline said firmly, his optics critical on the two he'd just injured, checking for anything excessive or that could have gone badly.

"We will be there," Thorn promised, his voice wavering slightly as he allowed Prowl to support him. Though he could walk, the neural feedback from having broken wings made it more difficult than Jazz would have anticipated.

The journey back to Wing's quarters was slow and painful. Jazz could walk, but each step hurt. He understood the reason behind the punishment, behind the suffering. This was something that he would remember for the rest of his functioning.

But even beyond the helplessness and vulnerability that had his survival protocols up in arms was a simple fact that he found even more frightening.

He would do it all over again for Prowl.

That thought occupied him, distracted him from the pain until they made it in the door to Wing's quarters and Jazz found the coherence to send a pulse of thanks through his field to the white Knight.

"You and Thorn won't have to move until Redline can see to the damage," Wing said gently, trying to reassure, as he helped Jazz lay on the large berth. "Prowl and I will get your energon. Just try not to move and aggravate the damage. The bracing is not that good."

Jazz nodded, frame shuddering as the other mech helped to arrange it on the soft surface, and for the first time Jazz was truly grateful for how picky flyers were when it came to their berths. The softness and support would make the time more comfortable than it would have been otherwise.

He watched as Prowl did the same for Thorn, settling the Knight face-down on the berth and making sure that the broken wings were supported in a position that would cause the least long term pain. Lightly Prowl slipped to Jazz's side and lay next to him, careful to not jostle him. His field was quiet, thoughtful, and still stressed by what he'd witnessed. As much as he hated it, he knew that was why they had to watch it all. Though Prowl wasn't going to be punished directly, he was being punished in a way that might just make him hesitate next time he thought to do something against the law here.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

"Okay. Try that now."

Jazz looked up at Redline and hesitated for just a nanoklik before obeying and cautiously moving his legs. His processor was expecting pain, and he sighed in relief when there was nothing but the slight hitching of newly integrated parts.

"Thank you." He sighed, relaxing back as the medic performed one more check before turning to see to Thorn. The Knight had accepted the pain blocker as soon as he'd come in, but insisted that the medic see to the civilian charge that had braved a Knight's penances before his wings were fixed.

"I'm glad he didn't demand you heal on your own," Wing murmured as he reached out to stroke Jazz's arm. "You're very brave, taking a punishment you didn't have to to spare me."

"He could have done that?" Jazz asked, glancing at Wing before turning most of his attention back to the work that was being done on Thorn.

"He could have ordered an execution, quick or as a penance, though it's never been done for an escape attempt," Wing said softly, earning a sharp intake from Prowl even though it wasn't news to the Praxian. "He usually makes me wait three orns and work through it when I get caught. But I'm stubborn, I yell back, and sometimes I think he feels obligated to be hard on me because I'm his creation."

Jazz hummed softly, field reaching out to brush against Prowl, comforting, calm and much better now that he was no longer in pain. Prowl's entwined with his, accepting the comfort and offering strength and support in return. "So there are others who have tried to escape? Or it is just a possibility?"

"A Knight never has, not any more than I do at least. I just go out to fly, not really to escape since I always intend to come back before my next duty," Wing explained. "A civilian has a couple times, mecha created here. It hasn't happened in my lifetime though."

"And the rest of the punishment? The credits are clear enough, but what is this binding thing?" Jazz asked.

"Credits I'm paying," Prowl said quietly, his tone one of brooking no argument. He couldn't override the protocols insisting he was more important to keep fully functional than a warrior, not in the moment when it counted, but the credits he could provide.

"My punishment." Jazz replied, tone light and prodding at Prowl in a teasing manner before he focused on the more serious matter Wing was addressing.

"My fault," Prowl said firmly, though his field caressed Jazz's affectionately.

"A binding is intended to help a mech understand something about themselves," Wing picked up. "Wrists are bound over your helm and secured so you can't really kneel and you can't stand. You face a wall with a Great Sword's gem at optic level. And you ... let go. You'll be facing Too Pure For This World since you don't bear one of your own," he touched the hilt over his shoulder.

"Let go of what? And is there something significant about the color? What am I supposed to be understanding?" He considered for another moment. "And what's the big deal about the sword?"

They all heard Redline chuckle, and Thorn's weaker amusement before Wing answered.

"You let go of everything. Of trying to think. Of trying to feel. Of trying to remain coherent. Most of the binding's time is usually taken up by that. Though as you'll see with Thorn, experienced Knights can slip into the state with relative ease. I don't go down nearly so easily. I don't know how hard it'll be for you. Yes, the color is significant, but you'll have to tell me what it means. I don't tell you.

"Great Swords are powerful artifacts. It contains a bit of spark energy from every mecha who's been bound to it. The older ones can argue with their bearers directly. Newer ones can only give impulses. It will guide the binding, once you allow it to happen."

Jazz just looked confused as he tried to sort his way through that, and finally mostly gave up with a shrug and focused his attention Wing. "So do I get any clues about your sword? Do I need to worry about it yelling things at me?"

"No, it won't yell at you," he chuckled. "Too Pure For This World is a mellow one."

"Great Swords only speak to their bearer, on the rare occasion they speak at all," Redline added.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz had been surprised that the bindings were done in the Knight's quarters. That room with the locked door, which seemed empty but for a meditation mat when he'd hacked the lock and peeked in, took on a very different meaning now. The nearly invisible hooks on the wall were for a Great Sword held at the height for the binding. A built-in compartment in the wall held more than a dozen spools of soft cord, each in a different color.

After watching Thorn whimper and shudder and cry out 'no' repeatedly for almost three joors then crumple in Wing's arms when the white jet cut him down, there was a break of almost six joors while Thorn shuddered between Wing and Prowl, then sank into recharge he clearly needed. Redline had come by to check that no physical damage was done and left with a satisfied nod.

Wing's locked room had been the same, the binding much the same, though as the younger jet had warned, he took much longer. Seven joors later and the second time he watched one Knight cut another down, Jazz had no clue what the signal was for being finished. Wing had plastered himself against Thorn and shakily, awkwardly sought kisses and touches until the black Knight had gotten him to his berth. It was strange to see a mech hurting the way Wing had to have been and wanting nothing more than to be spiked.

Thorn had indulged him, and remained close when Wing dropped into recharge after a gentle overload.

Now it was Jazz's turn.

They were in Wing's binding room and the white jet brought out a spool of red cord as the sentence directed.

Jazz vented, forcing himself to focus as the red cord was wrapped artfully around his arms and wrists by Wing. At first the binding had sounded like no big deal.

That was before he had watched Thorn go through his, and then Wing suffer next. The white Knight was holding his field steady, looking a bit odd without his Great Sword, as he worked. It was ritual, a meaning that was important to the Knights but Jazz didn't understand. He had no doubt that Wing would be molded to Thorn's side as soon as possible, Prowl close by, unwilling to be far from a friendly field even after time to recover.

"The first binding is usually traumatic, especially one in red," Wing said gently as he guided Jazz to kneel before the Great Sword on the wall. His arms were stretched up, Wing taking part of the weight until the binding was secured on a long hook. Then he let go, gently, and Jazz's full weight was on his shoulders. "We'll be here for you when it's over."

Jazz nodded and turned his helm to face the sword before him, focusing on the gem and, concentrating on even vents and trying to figure out what in Pit was going on. Let go, they had said. But it also sounded like he wasn't going to get any choice in the matter.

And red. What was so special about red? Wing had said it was bad, the first time. What did that mean. Jazz shifted, the angle and position of his arms already starting to grow uncomfortable. How was anyone supposed to be able to process anything like this, with this sort of distraction.

Irritation started to give way to anger. This was stupid, his processor was growling. There was nothing to be gained from going through this. Why was he here?

Why did he care?

That thought stopped everything, diverting his processors down another path. The only thing that he had ever cared about before he had come here had been himself. Every choice, every action, had been self-serving. Even pleasing others had been making sure that he stayed on the good side of whoever was going to provide his next meal and the protection he sometimes needed.

No one was to be fully trusted, because everyone had an ulterior motive. No one did something for him because they wanted was best for him, or just for him to be happy. Old bitter memories surfaced here, drawn somehow from the depths where Jazz had buried them.

Each event that had taught and reinforced the idea that the world was out to get him. Energon provided when he was a youngling, but only if he ran 'errands' and didn't get caught. Beatings every time he placed a pede tip out line.

Then different uses once he had grown into a mechling and lost the appearance of an innocent youngling. Escaping one personal Pit only to fall into another.

The Autobots had been little different, save that Jazz had a reasonable amount of consistency and some fairness there. Real energon and repairs were guaranteed there at least, so long as he did his job.

That was why he had stayed close to Prowl when this had all started. Prowl was his way back to the familiar. And Prowl had been his assignment, his charge, and returning him functional was the best way to please those over him. Selfish motivation.

Then somewhere, things had changed. Jazz's processor stalled there, demanding the where and the when and why when Jazz would have been just as happy skipping over it. Unlike all the other times, he couldn't just skip over it now. His processors kept circling back to _why_ Prowl was no longer a duty, which bled smoothly into what the Praxian was to him now.

Terms flitted through his processors, some attached to reality, some known only from stories and fantasies long thought forgotten.

What was Prowl to him now?

What had changed that he was willing to take serious damage and more when no one demanded it of him but himself. Wing was honest when he said he didn't resent Jazz for what he was facing.

It finally settled on the fact that it wasn't one single event, just as Jazz's mistrust of the world had not happened all in one functioning altering experience.

Prowl had never demanded anything from Jazz, or threatened Jazz's continued functioning. Prowl had set limits, boundaries and expected them to be respected, but he had never threatened Jazz. He had worked with Jazz, treated him as an equal. Plans had been made with the intent of not only accomplishing what Prowl needed, but working within the bounds of what Jazz was comfortable with, even happy with.

Happy. Truly happy. It was something that Jazz could not remember having experienced for vorns before coming here. And so many of those happy memories centered around Prowl.

Fear flared in Jazz. Whenever he had trusted before he had always been turned on. Prowl just hadn't turned on him yet.

Anger. Anger at Prowl and the city in general, for making him trust again. For making him believe. For the fact that he had suffered in this place that was supposed to be so _good_. Anger at himself for letting it happen, and forgetting the lessons that he had learned.

Realization slammed into him. He cared. He was angry because he cared. Cared about this place that offered him what he had always wanted, deep down. A chance to do more than survive. A chance to actually _live_.

He was angry that he cared about Prowl. Because Prowl offered what Jazz had always looked for in others. Safety. Care for Jazz as an individual, even when it seemed like it was at odds with his own programming.

Anger that he cared. Caring was dangerous. It was something that he had given up long ago.

Something that had been missing in his functioning, and something that he was only now realizing he wanted and needed.

A keening cry of confusion, pain, and denial escaped his vocalizer, though Jazz was beyond hearing it. White visor saw nothing but the memories playing through his processor. Betrayal and trust. Pain and pleasure. Hope and depression. Cold loneliness and care.

Care. He cared. And he wanted to care. Wanted to be cared for, no matter how hard he denied it and tried to escape it.

Something broke in him, a dam giving way, and he collapsed in the bindings, vents heaving and soft sobbing sounds escaping his vocalizer. Broken and vulnerable, and completely dependent on others.

Slowly he became aware of a warm, concerned and supportive field skittering across his before enveloping him. A strong arm wrapped around him and suddenly his arms were free to flop down uselessly at his sides.

It took that long for his scattered awareness to realize it was Prowl who had a grip on him. That Prowl was the one to cut him free and support him now that he had no fight in him.

With a whimper Jazz fell into that support, unable to hide the need so thick in him as his helm fell against Prowl's shoulder. Hope and fear swirled along after the need.

Hope that Prowl would stay.

Fear that he would be abandoned now that he knew how much he needed the other mech.

He struggled a little, processor sending commands to arms and hands that did not respond. Commands to hold on tight and not let go, and a keen of distress when nothing happened. "Prowl..."

"I'm here," Prowl murmured, his field a solid presence against Jazz's as he guided the mech into his lap as he sat down. "Your limbs will respond soon." He reached for a hand and began to rub the wrist. "It's over. You can rest now."

"Don't go." Jazz pleaded, trying to burrow weakly into that warmth. "Don't leave."

"I'm not, I won't," Prowl assured him, still rubbing his wrists gently until the color started to come back to a healthy level. "I'll be right next to you when you boot up," he promised.

Tired acceptance and a trust normally kept very deeply buried shone for Prowl to feel as Jazz collapsed against him, recharge taking over as optics went dim and awareness followed.


	10. Binding Realities

**Grasping a Chance 10: Binding Realities**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz onlined gradually to comfortable warmth, three fields all marked as safe and a gentle hand stroking his back. It was nice not to have to boot up on combat protocols and he snuggled into the warm frame half under his, relieved for a reason he couldn't grasp that it was Prowl. Relief and affection flooded his field and spilled over to the other mech. Prowl had kept his word. Prowl was here. Jazz lifted his helm as optics came online, seeking the other mech's.

"Feeling better?" Prowl's rich voice rolled over him softly as their optics met.

Silence as Jazz considered his answer, processor starting to catch up with the events of the prior orn, of the binding that he almost remembered but on another level didn't. "I don't know." He admitted, very softly.

"Can I help?" Prowl offered, his touch still platonic and gentle.

Confusion and fear rippled though Jazz, playing off of one another, and Jazz began to tremble ever so slightly under the gentle touches. "I don't know." He repeated, hands grabbing on to Prowl's armor and holding tight like he had wanted to and been unable before.

One hand still stroking Jazz's back, Prowl brought his other up to caress the dataport they usually used. The cover snapped open with the first brush of his fingers and Jazz focused on that, seeking the comfort and grounding that had always come from the connection between them when hardwired. Relief as Prowl plugged in and Jazz's firewalls dropped, sure that is anyone could help bring order and clarity to his confused processor it was this mech.

Prowl's mental touch as he extended his awareness into Jazz was respectful, just as it always was. ~Show me what hurts?~

Slowly Prowl was pointed in the direction of the vulnerability that Jazz was still having a hard time completely accepting on a conscious level.

There was a mental quiver from Jazz as he plunged and revealed the truth, already braced for rejection.

He cared about Prowl. Cared about the mech on a level that went beyond personal gain or self-preservation. Cared about Prowl in ways that he still didn't understand, but finally accepted existed.

~I...you.~ He whispered, unable to fully explain.

~Yes,~ Prowl murmured, recognizing the sensations and the difficulties. ~We have more in common than we believed,~ he said gently, caressing Jazz's awareness with his own mixture of fear and want that came from the same beliefs, if not quite the same experiences.

The understanding and acceptance eased some of the tension from Jazz, and he wormed his way deeper into the mental warmth and comfort that was there.

~Do you want this to change anything?~ Prowl asked gently, expressing his openness to it despite his own fears.

~Doesn't matter what I want. It's going to.~ Jazz answered, stating his belief. ~But I don't think so.~

~Then it will remain between us,~ Prowl said firmly. ~No one else need be told. Though there is a 73% probability that most who pay attention to such things knew before you did.~

Jazz pondered that, and the truth that he knew Prowl spoke. ~You knew?~ He asked, curious.

~No,~ he whispered uneasily. ~Emotional protocols did not integrate well for me. I recognized that I felt far too protective of you for logic or duty. I did not know what you felt.~

~Do now.~ Jazz observed. ~Do you want it to change?~ Not what Jazz wanted, was the strong implication, but what Prowl wanted. What Prowl was comfortable with. That Jazz did not want to feel that unease in Prowl if he could help it.

The connection went still, Prowl struggling with his nature vs. newer social programming.

~I ... do not understand the social implications well enough to know,~ he eventually said. ~I'm not sure what would change.~

~Maybe nothing.~ Jazz observed as he curled against Prowl, finally relaxing in the warmth. ~How others treat us, if we start admitting that it might be more openly.~

Jazz was quiet too before he forced himself to admit something else. ~I will try not to change how I act.~ He finally promised, unsure of how accepting what he had been denying for so long might influence him.

~What do you believe could change?~ Prowl asked, curious.

~How I approach you in public. In private.~ Examples were easier than words for Jazz over the hardline, so he moved to those instead. His core deep need to touch and be touched. His constant desire for companionship that he had struggled to keep in check his entire functioning, the need at war with survival. How he had kept a severe hold on it around Prowl most of the time, for the other mech's preference.

How without realizing it he had shaped so much of his action around the other mech. His schedules. His plans. Even his interfacing, only ever offering to spike Prowl and never asking for the same in return.

In a form of offering exchange, of vulnerability, Prowl offered what he'd done as his attachment to Jazz had increased. Jazz's true function in the army going from something not to be volunteered to something to never speak of. The protocols he'd written and trained himself to use to accept being touched, even enjoy it, though that was still a struggle at times. His careful shielding of Jazz from his criminal activities as best he could. That he even considered Jazz's desires in his calculations, and then how high they went in the priority queue.

Even the offer from just a few orns earlier when he'd mentioned the possibility of spiking Jazz. He'd backed off then, not ready to risk the new with such a limited time, but he had meant it. If Jazz wanted that, Prowl was willing to try and satisfy because he wanted to please Jazz, just to have him purring happily. He couldn't hide how that level of need to touch scared him, even as he understood it fully, comparing it to his need to have fields or hardline connections to others to feel anything resembling whole.

Jazz felt all of that, inspected it with care and a sort of reverence as his processor settled more. Outwardly his frame molded against Prowl as the rest of him reached out in a gentle caress through field and hardline.

~I am willing to try.~ He offered, desire and determination underscoring the words. He had a chance here. He wanted to take it.

~Then we try,~ Prowl replied steadily, his touch becoming less platonic but not demanding as he nuzzled Jazz for a kiss. ~I want to be happy here.~

Jazz purred in willing agreement, helm tilting into the touch and then the offered kiss. Happiness and contentment filled him, unfamiliar feelings, but after a moment of consideration ones that Jazz decided he liked as shared them for Prowl's inspection.

~Yes,~ Prowl nearly moaned as the emotional pleasure caressed him, something alien and frightening but so very good. ~More of that.~

There was a flare or surprise, and then delighted laughter from Jazz as he obeyed, jumping in to explore this new world with more hope than he could ever recall having. He was only absently aware of the Knights getting up and slipping from the room to give them a bit of privacy. Prowl's kiss was far too enjoyable to care much.

From Prowl's side came memories, fragmentary and degraded, of another existence where he'd felt content. The sensations were familiar, but the cause was alien enough Jazz couldn't quite grasp what he was being shown. They were accepted though, added the ever growing file that was Prowl in his processor. As broken as they were, Jazz offered them respect, and then offered to make new ones, to recreate the feelings even if the circumstances would never be again.

Under him Prowl shuddered with a want so intense it all but blotted out his awareness. He'd do anything to have that sensation of wholeness back, even if only for a few kliks at a time.

~Tell me what you need. How.~ Jazz asked, willing to give but needing to know how.

There was a moment of absolute stillness as Prowl tried to answer, and in the end he couldn't give it words. Not even across the hardline. He simply unlocked his chest plates and looked at Jazz with a mixture of hope and fear.

Shock made Jazz go still as well, then awe as the implication set. His frame trembled as he processed it all, and then nodded very slowly as his chest plates unlocked. ~If it will help-yes.~

~I was never intended to be alone,~ Prowl whispered as his armor slid out of the way and his spark chamber moved upwards to facilitate the merge. ~I crave the data connection as you crave the physical.~

~Then it's yours.~ Jazz offered, swirling blue light spilling out as his chest plates parted to mix with the pale blue of Prowl's.

A low, anticipatory moan escaped Prowl. ~Have you...?~

~No.~ Jazz admitted, honest. His spark was the one part of him that he had managed to keep safely locked away. That he was willing to offer it to Prowl, now, like this, was proof if any was still needed of how much he trusted the other mech.

~Neither have I,~ Prowl murmured, though with a strong sense of understanding the physics and processes of doing so safely and pleasurably. ~Please, I want to feel whole...~ he shivered, not fully knowing where the sudden drive was coming from, but not challenging it. He gently pressed down on Jazz's back, the embrace becoming a guiding force.

~Yes.~ Jazz agreed and offered again, the protective crystal spiraling open to let the first leaders out, seeking the spark it could feel so close and had no reason to fear. ~If it will help, yes.~

Prowl could only moan as his chamber spiraled open, his leaders rushing outward to entwine with Jazz's. His processors whited out with the pleasure and sensations and his chest arched up, wanting, _needing_.

For a nanoklik Jazz's spark pulled back, started and frightened by the strength of the spark and the mech behind it reaching out for his. The initial rush as the leaders touched and the connection pushed deeper had Jazz reaching out, looking frantically for Prowl.

~I'm here,~ Prowl soothed him over the hardline. The bond knew only pleasure at the moment, the coronas not yet touching. ~It's safe.~

Jazz calmed instantly, trusting Prowl to be in control. Trusting him that this was safe. He settled more as calm and good replaced the fear and panic. ~Ready.~ He finally offered.

More tendrils made a connection, increasing the energy flow between the two sparks. Then Prowl gently drew Jazz closer, just barely bringing their coronas in contact with a sharp gasp from both mechs that flowed into a deeply pleasured moan.

Jazz's frame trembled, though he hardly noticed as more of his attention focused on the new sensation of his very spark touching another.

It was different, more intense and intimate than anything he had ever felt before, and slightly unsettling that this was just the surface.

~Yes,~ Prowl moaned, shuddering in bliss that was only fractionally associated with the pleasure. Though the word-glyph came over the hardline, Jazz's very spark felt a faint echo of it.

~Following you.~ Jazz murmured, relinquishing all control. This was for Prowl, for the other mech to take what he needed. ~Show me?~

~Yes,~ Prowl shivered in bliss and gradually drew Jazz closer, deepening the merge in increments until a full sense of the _other_ flooded their sparks. ~Jazz,~ Prowl moaned over their fledgling spark connection. ~Oh Jazz.~

Wonder and awe filled Jazz, as well as a new and deeper understanding. If this was what Prowl had been missing, it was a miracle that the other mech was still sane.

~Here.~ He answered, and the sense of Prowl in his spark eased something in him as well. It wasn't how he connected the best, but it was unshakeable evidence that Prowl was _there_, reassurance that Jazz needed on many levels.

~Feels so good,~ Prowl shuddered, unable to express how intense the sense of _almost whole_ was to his core programming, part of him that couldn't be removed even when he became a mech and they were a determent to him. Instead he tried to pressed that sense of exquisite _wholeness_ through the bond and the hardline, trying to give Jazz a grasp of what he was giving Prowl and how much it meant to Prowl to have this, even if just for a few moments.

Jazz relaxed into the merge then, accepting the pleasure and the connection and accepting once more that this was going to be something different for him than it was for Prowl, but just as good. ~Then it is a good thing.~ He hummed.

~Oh Primus,~ Prowl's processors actually whited out as their coronas fully merged. It wasn't from the charge coursing through his frame, though that was higher than he could ever recall, but from the sense of _whole_ that shut down everything in his desperate desire to experience it fully.

Prowl's pleasure alone was more than Jazz could ever recall, pushing at his so perfectly. He wanted to drag this out, wanted to make it last for Prowl. Wanted this absolute bliss he could feel from the other to go on and on.

But the charge, the connection, the bliss, the stress from the changes in himself that he had still not completely recovered from- together they were all too much. His spark flared, energy blossoming out to consume both, and Jazz was too caught of up in the sensation to notice the small answering flare from Prowl's spark, a small miracle and perhaps a gift from Primus.

All Jazz knew when he came down was that Prowl was purring deeply, content and happy. Prowl actually felt happy. The hardline was pulsing with the Praxian's contentment and desire to repeat that frequently.

~That felt amazing,~ Prowl murmured in awe over the hardline when he felt Jazz was self-aware enough to understand.

~So it worked for you?~ Jazz asked, his tone a happy purr as he relaxed against Prowl, pleased and willing to repeat it.

~I think so,~ Prowl said with more than a hint of wonder. ~If not overload, then something at least as good. That was the most perfect I have ever felt.~

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The next orn Jazz was still aching, but not so much that he'd been excused from following along behind Wing as the mech did all sorts of unpleasant chores. Drone work, in Jazz's opinion, but a sentiment he kept to himself. He offered to help when he could, or when two sets of hands would clearly make things go easier. Wing seemed to forgive him when he had to stop too because of the strain from the repairs or the fear of Redline.

The thing that Jazz really noticed though was the way other Knights, and even the Knights' dependants, looked at him now. There was respect there. Not much trust, but definite respect. If they were going to stay, that was a start to rebuilding what they had broken.

"That you took my penance and punishments made a real impression," Wing said quietly when they were alone, after noticing Jazz picking up on the looks he got. "Every Knight, every Initiate and almost every dependant knows you did that on your own. Whatever your reasons, it impressed a lot of mecha that are hard to impress."

"No fancy reasoning behind it. Just the one I gave." Jazz said as he picked back up the brush he had laid aside to rest and started back on the stubborn stain on the training room floor. "Did what Prowl couldn't." There was no judgment in the statement, just the acknowledgement of fact.

"Why couldn't he?" Wing gave Jazz a look before going back to his own scrubbing.

"Take on more of Thorn's? Self preservation programming." Jazz explained, having asked about that himself after the fact and accepted the answer as just another aspect of Prowl. "And maybe the fact that he's smarter than I am." Jazz joked as he half scooted across the floor to the next mark, too lazy to actually get to his feet. No seemed to mind how the work was done, so long as it was done well and in a timely manner. So he could look like all the fool he wanted in the process.

"I suspect he's smarter than any two mecha in the entire city put together," Wing smiled fondly. "Not that it brings him any joy or pride. Sometimes I think he'd be happier without his smarts and hardware. So he's got programming that actively prevents him from endangering himself beyond the norm?"

"What he explained to me and I understood." Jazz nodded. "Tacticians of his caliber are considered a valuable asset. They are more important than...most mecha."

"And he belonged to the Prime, which made him far more valuable than most," Wing nodded. "I just always figured that kind of thing was learned value, not a program. But maybe if he was that unhappy, they needed it to keep him in line. Like the no-defection code."

"With him I wouldn't be surprised. Even just to keep him from offlining himself on purpose." Jazz murmured, a softer note to his voice.

Wing gave a sad x-vent. "Does he have those thoughts anymore?" he asked gently.

Jazz shook his helm as he stood, tossing his brush to splash in the bucket. "I don't think so. At least I haven't caught anything like that from him any time that we have been connected." He turned, surveying the now clean room, and felt an odd surge of satisfaction. "What next?"

"The mecha-koi ponds," Wing made a face as he stood. "I'm glad Prowl isn't that depressed. Did I read your fields right the other orn, that you've spark-merged?"

Jazz was quiet for a klik, processor going back over that memory yet again and causing a faint shiver to run through his frame. "Yeah, we did."

Wing smiled warmly. "Planning to again?"

"It seemed to help Prowl. Yes, if he wants to, I will do it again. It was...different." Jazz said, not quite finding the words to sum up what had happened.

"Helping Prowl, is that the only reason?" Wing became more focused as they walked.

Jazz hesitated. "Not entirely." He admitted. He would do it again because he liked it himself.

"Good," Wing visibly relaxed. "Do you know what can happen if you continue to merge?"

"Not really." Jazz admitted, helm tilting curiously. "Just that before it was something to be avoided if at all possible."

"Good advice unless you intend the relationship to be permanent," Wing nodded. "The more sparks are exposed to each other without anyone else in between, the closer they get. Your spark will become more attached to the other. Eventually you can have difficulty merging with others as your spark frequencies begin to align. The real danger is unintentionally kindling."

"Kindling? Creating?" Jazz asked, frowning as he worked all that through his processor.

"Yes," Wing nodded as they walked outside. "It might be very unusual, but for couples or triads who merge regularly, it can happen. Here it is a cause of great celebration, but I know neither of you are ready for that kind of additional stress, no matter which of you carried."

Jazz shook his helm, optics focusing on their next task as they swept over the decorative ponds and their glittering inhabitants. "No. And Prowl may never agree to it."

Wing gave an unhappy hum but didn't respond as he focused on the first pond. "We wipe dust off the plants, pick up what's fallen in the oil and if anything looks deactivated or damaged, pick that up so maintenance can fix it."

Jazz obediently set to work, the location oddly soothing he tended the crystal and metal plants surrounding the pond, even swiping a rag over one of the benches overlooking a clear spot quickly. "Why is that a bad thing?" He asked quietly when he was near Wing again.

The jet was hip-deep in fine, nearly transparent oil and the subject of great interest to the brightly colored and artistically patterned mecha-koi, some as long as his arm but most much smaller. "Everyone is expected to contribute to the next generation. Beyond that, Prowl has a lot to offer a newspark. He's got a strong spark, he's very smart, adaptive, clever; he'd make an excellent creator even if he chose to have little to do with his creation afterwards."

"A breeder." Jazz said, framing the description Wing had given him into something that he could understand. "Creators are the mecha that raise you."

Mecha that Jazz had never had in his life. Mecha that he had only seen through the lives of others, looking in windows and watching from the shadows.

Wing paused and looked at him, mulling the description over. "Sire or carrier is more accurate. Historically a breeder is a mecha whose only function was to create sparklings. I understand your distinction, for all I've encountered very little of it. Few mecha are willing to give up a sparkling they helped create here."

Jazz listened and read between the lines for what he hadn't said. "It's shameful not to raise your creation. Something that gets you shunned."

Wing nodded. "Enough that even those that do it will go to lengths to appear as if they do. Making a show of carefully placing the sparkling with kin, or a much more well-off couple."

"Do Knights do that much?" Jazz asked, genuinely curious until he saw the horrified look cross Wing's features before being quickly controlled. "It just didn't seem like it's the most nurturing group of mecha."

Wing gave him a sad smile. "No, I don't suppose it does from the outside. But to be a full Knight, the next rank up from me, you have to train someone to my rank. That's at least a couple centuries of intense one-on-one education, training, living together, refueling together, everything. A Knight pretty much gives up their existence outside of training for the entire time. Compared to that, to being a Daoshi, raising a sparkling is easy."

"And you are expected to contribute the same as everyone else?" Jazz said after he had mulled that over, finding that it made sense, even to him. Even if it was another aspect of being a Knight that was probably going to confuse him for the rest of his functioning.

"Of course, though I'm still young enough that I haven't been asked outright to yet," Wing said with an easy smile. "Every citizen is expected to contribute to the future."

Jazz just let that drop, thinking as he moved on to cleaning some debris out that had built up around a small filter. Wing let him think, not pushing the subject but ready if Jazz had questions.

"You said once...Dai Atlas is one of your creators?" Jazz finally asked after they had moved on to the next pond.

"Yes," Wing nodded. "Axe is my sire."

"What's it like? To have creators? To grow up with someone looking after you?" Jazz asked, a desperate edge of need to know in the question.

Wing did a good impersonation of the mecha-koi around him for a moment, his wings untucking and flicking as he tried to work out how to explain that. "Umm, you always have someone that watches out for you, takes care of you, teaches you, protects you. It's always having someone you can rely on. It's also growing up being able to become almost anything, but that means not having a clue what you're going to be, what your function is."

Jazz's field flickered in confusion and distress at the idea, trying to process it. He vented heavily. "Will I be required to create as well?"

"It's expected for all citizens," Wing murmured. "But no one is going to _force_ you to."

"They might want to reconsider with me." Jazz said, bending over and shooing a couple of the mecha-koi away from debris that had fallen in the pond, tossing the gooey object aside into a bucket. "How long will they wait to approach Prowl? Get him used to the idea so he doesn't try and bolt again. Or does he already know?"

"Why would you _want_ to be raped to kindle?" Wing didn't even register Jazz's question in his horror.

"I, raped, what?" It took Jazz a klik to process what Wing had said, and then piece together what the other mech had thought. "I don't! But I'm rather sure you don't want any creation that I would produce or influence as part of your city."

That confused the jet even more. "Why not? You're smart, creative, loyal, honorable, you have a strong spark. You'd produce great sparklings."

Bitterness filled Jazz. They were not allowed to leave, but they were expected to contribute if they were to remain? He considered that, looking at it from multiple angles, before shrugging stiffly. "Fine. But you'll want someone else to raise them, if you want them to turn out to be good little mecha."

A mecha-koi swam around his legs, distracting him and rising to the surface to nip at the fingers Jazz trailed along teasingly.

"But you're a good mech," Wing objected more strongly, distressed that his charge thought he couldn't raise a sparkling.

On some private level, it was touching to Jazz that Wing thought that. It also made him smile, a little sad for the truth the other did not know, and may well never. Instead he shifted the subject, bringing up his questions from before.

"And Prowl? How are they going to break the subject to him? Or does he already know?"

"He knew after he phrased the entire public library at the Citadel," Wing chuckled at the memory of Thorn's stunned look when he realized what his charge was doing. "I think that was ... eight or nine orns after you got out of medical. Asked Thorn about the details."

Jazz was not the least bit surprised at what Prowl had done or when. It was perfectly in line with the other mech's nature and his need to know and be in control, at least as much as possible. "And how did he take it?"

"Like he takes everything," Wing chuckled, recalling Thorn's recounting of the conversation. "Pragmatic to the extreme. He doubted that he could provide the emotional connection a sparkling needs, but otherwise didn't seem to object."

That also sounded like the Prowl that Jazz knew, and he nodded as he considered Prowl's point. "He could, I think. It just won't be easy for him. And still...distant." That was the best word that Jazz could come up with, as familiar as he was with the way that Prowl felt and expressed things.

The other mech would make the effort, if his processors could be convinced that it was worth the expenditure of resources.

"He wouldn't be expected to do so on his own," Wing pointed out. "I have no doubt you'd connect just fine with your creation. Prowl can care for it in other ways. You'd have such a lovely, strong sparkling."

Jazz just stared at the Knight, rather blindsided by the suggestion. "Maybe." He finally managed, not sure how to answer what seemed to him a highly improbable scenario.

"Why wouldn't you and Prowl create together?" Wing asked, very curious at the idea of kindling with someone other than your mate.

"There's nothing to guarantee that we'll still be together by the time whatever decides it's time for us to contribute rolls around." Jazz pointed out. "Prowl does what is best, tactically sound, for his own survival. It's how he is."

Jazz reached down and ran a gentle finger along one of the smaller mecha-koi, watching it swim slowly away before he climbed out of the oil and started collecting their tools and the waste they cleaned out of the ponds. "By that time, I may not be what he needs any more."

Wing hummed and followed. "I think you underestimate your value to him. Merging sparks is not a casual thing. He _cares_ for you, Jazz. A lot."

"He's merged with you and Thorn," Jazz pointed out. "Three mecha in as many orns is casual, at best."

Wing shook his helm and offered Jazz a couple oil-absorbent squares of fabric to clean up with. "That's just gathering data. He wanted to know if merging with you was special, or if that worked with anyone." He paused and looked at Jazz as they wiped their legs off. "He returned to you."

"He did." Jazz agreed, pausing to trade one saturated rag for a new one and starting on his other leg. "Said he wanted to be with me, that I 'felt better." He explained with a shrug. It was still hard for him, hard for him to believe that Prowl would stay for any length of time. Hard for him to believe that Prowl wouldn't move on once he found something better.

Everyone left. Everyone moved on when they no longer needed or wanted you. Functioning had taught Jazz that, and he still trusted what he knew far more than what he wanted.

"And that's not enough to make you believes he really cares about you?" Wing cocked his helm and finished getting the oil off his pedes.

"In his own way, I want to believe he does." Jazz said quietly, his oil soaked rags joining Wing's as they finished up. They stood and walked on to the next chore. Cleaning the primary wash racks.

"So enjoy it," Wing suggested. "He really does _like_ you Jazz. He's willing to risk his very spark to protect you. That's not to be taken lightly."

"He'd what?" Jazz looked at Wing, unbelieving. Prowl wouldn't risk himself for Jazz. Surely he couldn't.

"He told you to get away when he was crashing, to let him call for help." Wing paused to meet Jazz's visored optics squarely. "He's smart enough and knows his systems well enough to be fully aware that his chances of survival were much lower if he had to make that call. He valued protecting you from criminal charges more than he valued his own survival."

Jazz went still, vents catching as that sunk in. He'd been so focused on Prowl in those moments, he'd never gone back and considered what would have happened if he had obeyed. Those were memories so laden with fear he had avoided them, even now.

Prowl's actions then had been illogical, against the self preservation coding that had dictated his functioning. For a moment Jazz wondered if those actions had contributed to the strength of the crash, and twinge of sorrow ran through him.

"He...did." Jazz admitted, voice full of just how shaken he was by the revelation.

Wing reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, his field warm and supportive. "That's not a bad thing, Jazz. Just allow yourself to accept that your loyalty to him is very much returned in kind. You love each other a lot, even if that's not how you'd describe it. He cares deeply for you, values you far too much to leave easily."

Phrased like that, it was easier for Jazz to accept, and he calmed under the field and familiar, confident touch. "Maybe." He said again, but this time there was hope under the word instead of doubt, and a belief that what Wing was saying just might be true.

A warm, understanding smile spread across Wing's features like a sunrise. "You're good for each other, Jazz. You really are. He's so much warmer and more friendly, more social, when you're there to protect him." An even warmer smile graced Wing. "You really calm down too, in your own way. You're less volatile, more affectionate. I think he makes you feel safe, and I know you make him feel safer."

It was odd, true, and one of those things that Jazz was still wary of admitting, especially to anyone else. The warmth that reached back in his field was Wing's answer instead, full of thanks and hope and all the things that Jazz still had a hard time expressing in words.

"Good," the jet smiled brightly and patted his shoulder. "Let's get the shift over with."


	11. A Minor Celebration

**Grasping a Chance 11: A Minor Celebration**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz was in the washrack, relieved to be cleaning up after the last penalty shift Wing's punishment. The white jet was washing up next to him when he suddenly perked up.

"Hay Jazz, it turns out there are a few mecha in the city that know how to program stim-sticks and the like."

The comment was rather unexpected, and it took a moment to register. Jazz paused in his scrubbing, looking at Wing with a rather surprised expression. "You actually looked into it?"

"Of course," the young Knight seemed surprised at the idea that he might not have. "You're right. I should know where the problems come from internally. It just took a long time to track down anybody who knew, and was willing to tell me anything."

"So are they going to try to do anything about it?" Jazz asked, just curious. There was a warm edge to his field, directed towards Wing and the fact that the Knight had taken him seriously and not the topic being discussed.

"They can't, not really," Wing shook his helm. "None of it's illegal to produce, possess or use. It's only wrong to commit a crime while intoxicated. Same laws as for high grade."

"Ah, makes sense." Jazz admitted, scrubbing off the last of the grime from the work orn and stepping under the hot solvent spray with a sigh of utter contentment. "Why so reluctant to talk to you then?"

Wing chuckled a bit in self-deprecation. "Knights have a well-deserved reputation for being a bit on the zealous side of anti-intoxication. The stuff is legal, but it's not that acceptable in most circles."

Jazz had to chuckle a bit at that too. "I can see where they are coming from." He said as he stepped out from under the spray and turned it off. Drops of the solvent splattered everywhere from a shiver that ran the length of Jazz's frame.

"Do we have plans for the evening?"

"Refueling with Thorn and Prowl, then an evening together?" Wing suggested a common plan.

"Good plan." Jazz agreed, field lifting a little at the mention of energon and good company. "Maybe we can do something besides getting stomped in a game by Prowl."

Wing laughed brightly as they moved to dry off. "Let's see if we can convince Prowl to watch some new vid if you're plugged in to give him the social cliff notes?"

"I think he might be agreeable to that." The purr in Jazz's voice revealed just how agreeable he found the suggestion as well. "I'm sure that you have something lying around that he hasn't been subjected to yet."

The jet giggled, his field bright and light in his mirth. "Always. I pick something up more nights than not that you're in Prowl's room." He turned the blower off and regarded Jazz. "Want a bit of a dry-polishing to look good for him tonight?"

There was a klik of hesitation before Jazz nodded in agreement. While it was something that he would normally bother with, it was something that Prowl would notice and might appreciate. "Would you like the same?" Jazz offered in return, a social norm of favor for favor that he had picked up on very quickly, and one that actually did make sense to him. It wasn't unusual for a mech to offer because they wanted one and it was considered more polite than asking for a favor.

Wing gave a happy trill and pulled out a dry-polish cloth and wax from his subspace and motioned for Jazz to turn around so he could start on his back. "It's a night to celebrate a little. Our punishment is over."

"Very true." Jazz purred in agreement as he leaned into the touch, enjoying the attention. They settled into a familiar, comfortable silence as Wing worked, then Jazz returned the favor. Despite the intricate frames, it didn't take them long. They were both familiar with the other's frame and how to give the light polishing.

"Ready?" Wing looked at his charge after they both checked themselves over in the mirrors of the final room.

Jazz had to laugh as he nodded. "All this fuss over energon and a movie in your quarters." He commented, light tone taking any sting out of the words or phrasing. It was just something that he never thought he would care about, and extreme from the way he had grown up.

"Sometimes making a fuss over nothing important is rejuvenating," Wing grinned at him with complete understanding. "There's no shame in wanting to look _good_ for a mecha you're hoping to spend the night with, even if you're already lovers."

"Going to try and convince Thorn he wants to stay for the night, or do you have your optics set on someone else?" Jazz asked as they walked to the common room, field light and full of life even after the long orn.

"Thorn," Wing snickered as they walked towards the primary common room. "Someone else is for the nights you're at his place. One of us has to be aware enough to listen for you, and it's not me after a good 'face."

"I've been good." Jazz pointed out quietly, field dimming just a little. Though part of the reason for that had been Prowl. It was odd, the different edge to the pleasure they were sharing each orn now that it was something that they wanted, and not a cover-up or something that Prowl had to have to keep him sane that nanoklik.

"Yes, as has Prowl," Wing sighed. "Thorn and I trust you, because we understand what caused the deviation. Redline trusts you because he trusts his own skill. But no one else does yet, and we are checked on. Or rather, Thorn and I are checked on. If one of us doesn't respond fast enough, we'll face another penance, even if both of you are exactly where you should be. So at least one of us in the quarters has to be reactive enough to respond. We really don't want to lose the few privileges we've been granted, to you or us."

"And poor Thorn is stuck with being the responsible party." Jazz said, sure that the other Knight didn't mind. The Knights knew themselves and each and other well enough to keep relationships on all levels running smoothly.

"He'll get a good 'face out of it," Wing grinned at him, his optics glittering. "But you know I'm almost in stasis after a good overload. If we fool around, it has to be him."

"True enough. Get your energon?" Jazz offered as they entered the main common room, spotting the out of they way place that Thorn and Prowl had settled in, their usual. Thorn had already spotted them and waved them over. Prowl's greeting was typically subdued, but Jazz saw the welcome in it when he looked up.

"Thank you," Wing's field brushed against Jazz's in a silent reiteration of his trust before he walked to the table, leaving Jazz to get the energon for them. Though it could be seen as Jazz being submissive, all four involved knew it was an act of trust with deep resonance for Jazz. Unsupervised, he could do so many things, but his keeper trusted him not to.

It was the work of a few klik to gather two cubes of energon, one of the higher energy grade that suited Wing's systems and a cube of the milder variety that powered Jazz's just fine. After a moment of hesitation Jazz selected a small cube of moderate high grade with several additives and subspaced it for later.

"Good orn?" He asked, addressing Thorn and Prowl both as he took a seat and passed Wing his energon.

"Well enough. I've caught up some in my studies during the time that I've had to accompany Prowl to his office when he has to go in." Thorn said, field stretching out in welcome to brush against Jazz's.

"It will be good when Thorn no longer has penalty duties," Prowl added. "Those and my duties make for a long orn for him, and a dull one for me. Though the company is an improvement over the office."

"At last there are some good points." Jazz said, field full of sympathy for them both. "Going to celebrate when it is over?"

"Definitely," Thorn lifted his cube to take a sip. "It'll be a good night for us all. It's been ages since I pulled penalty shifts for any length of time."

"Sounds like _big_ plans." Jazz teased.

"He has dragged me into it," Prowl said with quiet mirth before sipping his energon. "I have rarely done small, as you know."

"Oh?" Jazz's visor lit up. "Do tell."

Prowl grace him with a small smile that was only ever for Jazz. "You know you have to earn that," he teased, though his tone was almost perfectly flat. The performance earned a snicker from Wing and a low chuckle from Thorn.

"Oh, a challenge." Jazz purred, visor flaring in return. "I think I can manage something that will make you spill."

"You are always welcome to try," Prowl's droll tone belied the glitter of his optics.

"I don't think anyone's watching the vid tonight," Wing snickered.

"Wing and I thought that a vid might be more fun that the three us sitting around while Prowl flattens us in a game without even straining himself." Jazz explained to Thorn, even though his gaze never wavered from where it met Prowl's.

"It will make a nice change of pace," Prowl consented with only a faint hint of how much he enjoyed trouncing them all without really trying.

"Okay, so what kind of porn do we want on for background encouragement?" Wing asked cheerily.

"Does it really matter?" Thorn asked as he finished off his cube. "Like you said, no one is going to be paying attention anyway. Unless you have found something _new_."

"New as in new participants, though it's a basic hardline-penetrative combo with spark foreplay," Wing flicked his wings and worked on his cube. "You know my tastes."

Thorn and Jazz both chuckled at that, well aware of the white Knight's tastes, as Wing pointed out. "No worries then." Jazz said, finished his energon as well and settling back in his seat until the others were done. It wasn't a surprise that Wing and Prowl took longer. When Prowl wasn't in mission mode set on _doing_ he actually liked to take his time with energon, something that surprised Jazz when he'd first noticed. Wing, well, the white jet liked to enjoy every moment possible.

It wasn't long though when they all had something to look forward to. As Prowl dispersed his empty cube they stood, and Jazz took note of how in synch they were. That Wing and Thorn could move as one wasn't a surprise given how long they'd been sparring together. Jazz knew they he'd timed himself to Prowl some time ago. The four of them, that was rather new.

It didn't go unnoticed in the room either. Normally so many optics on him when he wasn't trying to attract attention would have Jazz twitching, but this time it just made him smile and walk a little closer to Prowl, his field reaching out to twine with the other mechs', rich with affection. It lightened his spark at how easily Prowl's affection was returned this way. It wasn't physically demonstrative the way Jazz craved, but it was rich with the honesty that was very hard to fake.

Wing had been right. Loyalty, affection, desire; whatever they chose to call this thing between him and Prowl, it was real, it was solid and it would endure beyond the first offer Prowl received from another.

They remained quiet for the walk, Prowl only speaking after the door closed. "You're thoughtful."

Jazz's gaze swept the other mech up and down before he answered. "Thinking about you." He said, honest.

Prowl gave him another of those small smiles and leaned in to kiss him lightly. "Good things, from the teek of it."

"How strong and handsome you are." Jazz murmured, lips brushing Prowl's. "How good being with you feels. Hope that this good thing will _last_."

Each word said quietly, filled with honest fear and hope.

Strong, dark hands slid along his sleek frame as Prowl drew him close and into another kiss. "It will last," Prowl promised as only he could. Not a promise of emotion or intent, but one born of planning and a processor set capable of running a city.

It a way that was calming to Jazz, more sure than any other promise could be, and he pressed into the kiss as his field reached out to wrap around Prowl in a deep welcome full of desire that he felt returned in full measure.

When the kiss finally broke, Prowl was already backing them towards Jazz's room. "Forget the vid," he rumbled, hungry in a way he rarely was. Happy laughter followed them all the way to the room, Jazz smiling at the clear expression of their keepers' amusement and approval.

"No objections here. Wasn't really planning to watch it anyway." Jazz admitted, fingers brushing over Prowl's frame questioningly, traveling from dataport down chest seam to hips and interface covers.

"No one was," Prowl nuzzled him before kissing down Jazz's throat. His spike cover slid open, though the spike remained in place. "Perhaps something new?"

Jazz's entire frame quivered, field flaring with yes-please-_want_, though his voice remained surprisingly steady. "If it will please you too. Know that you've always seemed to prefer your valve." He'd never bothered to ask why, mostly content so long as Prowl was.

"Because it is far less work," Prowl actually chuckled and gave him a light kiss on the nose. "Most just wanted to get off, and it is so much easier for me to lay back and let them than to work at it." His voice dropped to a sultry purr. "You're worth the effort."

The tone of that voice had Jazz shivering again, valve cover sliding open without any more encouragement. "Please?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," Prowl kissed him hotly again and turned them around so Jazz would lay on the berth, guiding him down and settling above him. "I enjoy your pleasure."

The mech beneath him stretched out on the berth, legs spreading in invitation and frame angled to be attractive as the field already twined with his sang of trust and desire. "Just leave me enough energy to please you as well?" Jazz asked.

"I will," Prowl promised as he kissed his way down his lover's frame. Each motion was precise, calculated. It was like their first interface in many ways. Prowl knew technical details, but not how to translate that to passion, not even his definition of passion. It took him time and experience to grasp such variation.

Every motion and bit of attention was encouraged though, soft sounds greeting each touch and stronger flares of pleasure around hips and thighs spiking with each touch that did more for Jazz then merely feel good. It made him feel wanted, desired, worth more than what he could buy with his services.

It wasn't long before Prowl's hands slid between Jazz's legs to caress the inside of his hip joints and the lower array, his thumbs sliding along the outer edge of the ring of platelets surrounding his valve.

A soft gasp and a rise of Jazz's hips met the touch, slick lubricant already shimmering on the platelets and transferring to Prowl's thumbs. "Please." Jazz asked again, wanting this so badly, from the first time they had interfaced because they had wanted to and not because they needed to.

"Never beg, not of me," Prowl trilled. "I won't leave you needing," he promised as he shifted up Jazz's frame and kissed him soundly. With one knee braced against the soft flier-grade berth Prowl pressed the tip of his spike against the platelets, then deeper, gradually spreading Jazz's valve open.

"Prowl." Jazz moaned, valve rippling and squeezing around the invading spike, waves of welcome and pleasure caressing Prowl through joined fields. Pleasure, the desire to give, flared back. It was such a different kind of pleasure than what Jazz was feeling, but after more than two vorns in the mech's berth, he understood it fully. This was passion and deep affection to Prowl, the desire to give without receiving in return. The willingness to make an effort that took more energy than it returned. It was as high on the list of sacrifices Prowl could make without having to seriously struggle against his coding as anything they'd encountered.

Jazz could top, could lead and dominate. Especially when it seemed to please Prowl so, willing to do anything for the other mech. But underneath, in the part of him long buried from outside optics, Jazz craved the gentle attention of another's care. Of attention offered because the other wanted to give, and only wished the pleasure of the one receiving in return.

What Prowl was giving now, so willing, went straight to Jazz's spark.

The Praxian paused when he felt himself seated fully inside his lover and relaxed, nuzzling Jazz's neck before his hips drew back, slowly and measured, learning as he moved.

"Yes." Jazz moaned again, encouraging as his valve squeezed down, protesting the loss of sensation from being stretched and filled. There were other mecha that could have done this for him, who likely would have been more than willing to spike him. But none of them were Prowl, and it was only to Prowl that Jazz had trusted with this.

"So tight," Prowl gasped as he pressed in again, genuinely surprised by the sensation.

"New." Jazz whispered, gazing up at Prowl. "You're the first." He said, shivering with each sensor node that was set off in the valve lining, squeezing down around that Prowl's spike and thankful for the some of the extravagant detail that seemed so common to him in the city.

"Why? You like to touch so much," Prowl moaned softly as he set the rhythm intended to bring Jazz to overload slowly.

"Wanted you." Jazz said, reaching up and tracing Prowl's helm before catching the other mech in a gentle kiss. Maybe it seemed silly. It was certainly not logical. But it was the truth, and there was something deeper here for Jazz than mere pleasure or companionship. "Trust you."

Prowl's field flared bright and hot in a conflagration of surprise, humble honor and joy. He kissed Jazz again and focused on getting the roll and thrust of his hips just right to bring the most pleasure to the mech under him. The attention left the mech beneath him shuddering and keening. Each motion of Prowl's hips striking multiple nodes in succession. The perfect amount of pressure against the cluster of nodes at the top of his valve, almost pain but not quite. Things that it would have taken most lovers multiple encounters to discover, analyze and implement were already being tweaked to perfection.

"Prowl." He moaned again. "So good, so good." Hands dropped to the berth, digging into the thick padding to ground his frame as his hips rolled up into each motion.

"Good," Prowl's voice hummed and vibrated against jazz's throat. "Want it to be good. Want you to want me."

"Always want you." Jazz whispered, not sure why or why he was so sure of this fact, but his field rang with his conviction as his valve clamped down around Prowl's spike and he howled in overload, letting go with complete trust as he did with no one else.

Prowl continued to thrust, the max charge his frame permitted allowing him to remain completely focused even in the face of the energy leaping to him from Jazz. It felt good, he was coming to enjoy pleasuring Jazz more than made sense. All that was shoved back as he focused on continuing to rock his hips to draw out Jazz's overload and let him down gently, slowly, the pleasure continuing to crackle for more than a full klik.

Under him Jazz's frame slowly relaxed, vents spilling hot air over Prowl and the berth as they worked to cool the heated frame. Jazz's visor flickered as it came back online slowly, processor following as it tried to work through the most intense valve overload he had ever experienced. "Wow." he finally managed, one hand reaching up to shakily draw Prowl down into a kiss. "Do that again some time?"

"Just ask," Prowl promised into the kiss. "Anytime you want."


	12. A Surprise Date

To read the full chapter, go to Ao3  
archiveofourown dot org/works/631313/chapters/1260419

Grasping a Chance 12: A Surprise Date  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Last one of the orn." Jazz announced cheerfully to Demeter as he transformed and waited for her to settle back in his cab. "Thanks for trading off duties with Wing. It's easier on him to not have to fly all over the city keeping track of me whenever I am working."

"No problem," she grinned at him from the front seat. "I'll take chaperoning you around over cleaning duty any orn. I did always wonder a little about that, assigning two high-strung jets to a couple grounders."

"From what I understand they volunteered. Though why I've never asked." Jazz said as he started off, then slowed as his comm went off and he identified the caller. ::Wing?::

::Done for the day?:: The Knight inquired cheerfully over the connection.

::Yup. Was just on my way back.::

::Good. I have two tickets to a concert and dinner reservations at the Crystal Gallery. One of the tickets is for you.:: Wing informed him, sounding smug and very pleased with himself.

For a nanoklik Jazz was actually speechless. ::Thank you?:: he finally managed.

::Oh, it was fun. See you later.:: Wing chirped before ending the comm signal.

Still a little surprised, Jazz relayed the short conversation to Demeter as he started off again.

"They volunteered because they were the ones who found what was left of the shuttle, but Wing really argued for it too. Most of that was behind closed doors though," she shrugged. "Wow, Crystal Gallery. That's a _really_ nice place. You're going to want to be really well polished, maybe even a full touch up. There is time."

"Is that an offer of help?" Jazz asked, actually a little intimidated by the prospect.

"Absolutely. I can wrangle a couple others to help too," she yipped, excited by the prospect. "You'll look perfect for the evening," she promised eagerly.

"Good, because I certainly have no idea where to start for something like this." Jazz sighed.

"It's just a good wash, a mirror polish and touching up your colors so they're vibrant," she told him with a soothing caress of his field. "Surely you've made a formal presentation to the brass?"

"Not for up close inspection, and my old frame was much simpler." Jazz said, relaxing some. "And never for something like this, a nice meal."

"It's not much different, and you'll have helping hands," she assured him. "No one is going to think you out of place. We'll make sure of it. Maybe one of the smaller washracks? So you don't have to be on display for so many, if you don't want to be."

Jazz pulled up in front of the Citadel and paused while Demeter jumped out before transforming smoothly. "More worried about being out in public than here. Though I don't supposed Wing would let me make too much of a fool of myself."

"You'll be fine," she assured him smoothly. "Really, your manners are good. You won't have any problems. The Crystal Gallery is really nice, but it's not anywhere that requires special behaviors."

"Oh good." Jazz said, mood lightening and his natural good humor resurfacing as they made their way inside. "And now I follow your lead, oh wise one."

Demeter giggled and padded ahead of him towards the primary washrack of the Citadel.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Despite Demeter's reassurance when she left him to be seated, Jazz was sure this was the most upscale public place that he had ever visited. Not that surprising, considering his background, but it was still enough to make him a bit uncomfortable. He sat quietly at the small table, picking apart the soft music playing the in the background as he sipped at the light energon the server had left with him and studied his surroundings.

The Crystal Gallery was aptly named, the entire place made up of multiple pieces of crystal that somehow were all arranged to seem as one. Subtle lighting was strategically placed so that it was picked up and reflected to artfully light the entire dining area. Each sculpture, wall, angle and decoration was placed to provide the perfect acoustic environment for the live music being performed.

It was all a little overwhelming, and Jazz was glad when his dinner guest arrived, only to be surprised once more when it was not Wing that was shown to the seat across from him. It was an equally startled looking and polished Prowl.

"It seems our keepers are not satisfied with our courting efforts," Prowl actually sounded amused when he was settled.

"Is that what we're doing? Courting?" Jazz asked, equally amused but also pleased with the appearance of his dining companion.

"It's what they believe we should be doing," Prowl countered. "They are far more fixated on processes than we are."

That had Jazz laughing softly, the sound full of amusement as he pulled up the menu and looked it over. "Well, who are we argue? I'm certainly not if I get to spend the evening with you."

"Agreed," Prowl's smile was small but warm as he skimmed the menu. "Even better when they are paying. The acoustics here are amazing."

"They are." Jazz agreed, the music sending a small shiver through his frame as the musicians moved on to a new arrangement. He hadn't been able to dance near as much with their punishment restrictions, and with a small start he realized how much he had actually missed it.

"Perhaps Demeter will humor us with a joor or two at the nearest dance club," Prowl suggested as he selected his meal, one that drew heavily on Praxian cuisine but was also more acidic than most from the region.

"Maybe." Jazz agreed, still studying the menu and finally settling one something from the description that he thought sounded appealing. Savory, and from the additives something that should lean a little more to the sweet than the acidic that Prowl seemed to prefer. "If not, a word to Wing might mean I can get out for a little without you having to come along, if you don't want to."

He looked up, focusing on Prowl with a small, teasing smile. "You're still my favorite dance partner."

"I'm a safe dance partner," Prowl smiled back with understanding harmonics. "I do not generally mind indulging you for a while."

"My favorite anyway." Jazz insisted, field reaching out to subtly caress Prowl's, well aware of the public nature of their currently location.

Prowl's wings gave a faint flutter as his field caressed back, and Jazz realized he'd managed to embarrass Prowl, in a good way.

"Have you looked up what they're expecting of us?" Prowl asked softly, relaxing in the warmth of Jazz's field.

"Who?" Jazz asked, nodding slightly in thanks as the light energon at his elbow was smoothly refilled and the server moved on to the next table.

"Wing and Thorn," Prowl explained easily. "They are the ones who arranged this. Likely because we were not going on enough dates."

Jazz sighed, the sound one of exasperated affection for their keepers. "I honestly haven't. Care to enlighten me?"

"It seems that it is important to make regular public appearances as a couple in settings where we can get to know each other and the general population can watch," he was only half successful in hiding his displeasure at the expectation. "Gifts are part of this process as well. Some publicly, some can be in private. I'm still trying to phase the difference."

His optics abruptly darkened several shades as they partially powered down. One hand went to the center of his chevron as his helm lowered and his wings tucked in. Not yet to the extent of drawing the attention of everything that could read wings, but still a clear marker of distress.

Almost as quickly as it happened it seemed to pass.

"I am all right," Prowl said very quietly once his optics returned to their typical bright yellow.

Another gentle caress of Jazz's field against his, checking, questioning, full of deep concern. Smooth reassurance caressed back.

"I am much more susceptible to overheating and a minor crash when I can not understand something," Prowl murmured, just loud enough for Jazz to hear. He paused when their meals were delivered and waited until the server had moved away. "It seems my tac-net has greater difficulty than before breaking the loop."

"Have you told Redline this?" Jazz asked, arranging his meal before him to a setting that was more comfortable to him before taking the first bite and almost melting. He had thought he had been exposed to good fuel here in the city. But most of that paled in comparison to the flavors sliding over his glossa.

"Yes, he's aware," Prowl nodded as he collected a bit of gel and syrup in his spoon. The moan was silent, but Jazz teeked it clearly, the pleasure Prowl felt at the sharp flavors flowed freely across their entwined fields.

Jazz allowed himself to be content with that answer, knowing that there was little he could do if Redline hadn't come up with anything yet. "Have to come up with a way to thank them for this." Jazz commented softly after a few more bites, each one sending small spike of pleasure across the connection.

"I am reasonably confident that enjoying the evening and playing the courting game they expect will be sufficient." Prowl gave his lover a tiny teasing smile. "But if you really want to make Wing happy, say 'thank you' when you see him next."

Jazz chuckled. The words that had been so hard for him when he first arrived in the city came far easier now, and with much greater sincerity. "I have the feeling that Thorn deserves some thanks too. How are things with your work and him in tow when you have to go in?"

"I intend to thank him," Prowl said with complete sincerity. "They are settling, surprisingly enough. It seems that Knights can meditate and do their introspective duties anywhere that they can achieve the needed state. So he kneels in the corner beside the decorative plant and meditates while I deal with irate civilians. So long as things don't become threatening, almost no one even realizes he's there." A flicker of bright amusement danced across their fields. "It seems that our activities are not common knowledge outside the Citadel."

"Our activities? The extra recreational ones?" Jazz repeated and got a flicker of confirmation across their fields. Then he focused on the rest of what Prowl had said. "There are mecha who actually threaten you?"

"Not often, and not violently, but a couple have assumed that I could be intimidated," a slightly cruel smile flickered across Prowl's features before it was gone, replaced by something more acceptable.

Jazz chuckled softly again. "What could they want so badly they would try to intimidate you?"

"Even paradise has greed," Prowl gave a small, elegant shrug of one wing. "I was a new mech. They deemed that reason enough to test me. I deemed the test reason enough to mire them in bureaucracy for most of a vorn."

The small snicker that escaped Jazz had a distinctly evil tone to it, clearly amused before he too schooled himself back to acceptable public appearances. "They will learn soon enough. Have they given you anything new to do?"

"Yes," Prowl hummed, still somewhat bemused. "I've been asked to plan the conversion of this world into a new Cybertron. It is quite entertaining. Are you still enjoying courier work?"

Jazz's visor flashed, surprised, and he filed that away for later consideration. "A great undertaking." He commented quietly. "Yes. It keeps me out and about. Though if you do every seriously move forward in making those changes, I wouldn't mind expanding my roaming area. They won't have to worry about me leaving or anything." He added with a small smile.

"Not so long as I remain," Prowl purred, the harmonics that of it being something he was proud of, rather than something to exploit to control Jazz with. "We will have freedom of movement in time. It is only a question of how much time," he said with complete conviction before savoring another bite of his meal. "How are you enjoying Demeter's company?"

"I think I might actually miss her when it's over." Jazz admitted with a laugh, conversation halting for a moment as he bit into a crystallized solid that had come with his meal and melted again, taking a few moments to analyze it.

With a bout of strong self-control he reached out, offering the other half to Prowl. "Were you thinking about moving out again once we do?"

"I have no more reason to, however we will have no right to living in the Citadel once we are citizens," Prowl murmured, then leaned forward to take a small nibble of the treat. He left most of it for Jazz, and slid his glossa lightly along Jazz's fingertips in a blatant display of his intentions towards the other mech.

The act sent a visible shiver through Jazz and earned Prowl a soft purr of the other mech's engines as Jazz finishing off the rest of the solid. "I trust you've already made plans for in case we do?"

There was no question that they would be together when they did. Not for either of them.

"Such as I can with so little data." His field licked along Jazz's in a promise of what he had planned for that night. "I do not anticipate it will be significantly different from our last effort to live on our own. We did prove we are capable of balancing our budget and holding a paying job. The question now is more of when we will be trusted enough for the supervision to end."

"A very good question." Jazz said, struggling as little to not rush through his meal with so much promise rolling off Prowl. Suddenly that promise dimmed, buried and shielded rather than cooled.

"We should enjoy what is on offer," Prowl said gently. "That promise will hold."

"Going to hold you to that." Jazz threatened, his tone full of teasing as he picked up his liquid energon and sipped, taking a few nanokliks to compose himself.

"I know you will," Prowl's smile was warm and unusually open, though it didn't last. "It was very nice of them to arrange for this. I would say we should be extra cooperative, but I do not believe that is possible."

"I think we might scare them if we were to try something like that." Jazz said with a smile.

Prowl actually chuckled. "Quite possibly. So I say we enjoy the rest of our meal, enjoy the concert and do our best to cooperate with this whole dating concept that they have for us to follow. I'm sure they'd both be delighted if we occasionally asked questions about it or what to do."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Dinner had been lovely, the concert far more pleasant than Prowl had expected between relatively gentle music and Jazz snuggled against him the entire time and dancing afterwards had been all but maddening.

Thorn had been waiting when they got back, and smiled indulgently when they had not so much as paused in their journey from the main hall to Prowl's room. "Had a good time, and planning a better one now?" He had called after them, only to laugh at the possessive growls directed his way from the distracted couple.

Now back in Prowl's room the Praxian didn't wait for the door to close to turn Jazz around and pin him against the wall with his frame and kissed him almost senseless.

"And they called you cold." Jazz gasped when the kiss finally broke, just before his hand caught the back of Prowl's helm to pull the other down for another round. Hands moved, stroking, teasing, slipping under armor and against sensitive panels as the second kiss progressed to a third and a fourth.

"Want your spark, your valve," Prowl growled in a break. "Taste your overload."

"Primus." Jazz groaned, slightly stunned at what was being offered but doing nothing to hide the desire and hunger in his field. "Yes, please. Oh please."

With a pleased and very possessive grin, Prowl kissed and nipped his way down Jazz's chassis, flaring his field deep into his lover with each contact. "Mine," he growled just above the spark that did so much for him. "No matter who touches, no matter how long, _mine_."

A whine of agreement escaped Jazz, frame already trembling at the attention that played to his every need, touches that sent waves of sensation through his neural nets and the possessive declarations that spoke of being wanted and needed on so many levels.

Prowl rumbled in approval and flared his field deep, caressing Jazz's very spark before he continued down. "My beautiful lover. Mine."

"Yours." Jazz said, focusing on that word for a moment, then pleased wave of joy pushed back at Prowl. "You won't replace me."

"No," Prowl paused and looked up. "I have no desire to replace you. I want to keep you. Want to have you. So long as you want me to have you."

"Don't want anyone else." Jazz assured him, field flaring through to Prowl with conviction and trust.

To read the rest, go to Ao3  
archiveofourown dot org/works/631313/chapters/1260419


	13. Bonding Efforts

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Replace the space with a .  
archiveofourown org/works/631313/chapters/1269760

**Grasping a Chance 13: Bonding Efforts**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Redline watched the strange foursome that had grown so close in less than four vorns. It was warming how far the strangers had come to honestly accepting the ways of the city. It was no longer an effort to get away from watchers in his opinion. The pair had decided to stay and they were no longer holding on to what they had before. Or rather, what was driving Prowl to run had been rooted out and now with free will the Praxian had embraced the opportunity the city represented. With him Jazz came willingly. The former pilot, and Dai Atlas was sure Special Operations mech, was loyal to Prowl. It wasn't ideal, but they did trust Prowl to be honest and predictable within the bounds of his programming, so it was good enough.

"All right, you can go," Redline looked at the two guardians, who startled slightly. Wing opened his mouth to argue, but a black hand on his shoulder made him go silent. A meaningful look passed between Wing and Thorn, and the younger jet nodded reluctantly.

After the Knights left, Redline focused on his patients. "Are you both confident you know how to try and form a bond?"

"Yes," Prowl answered for himself. He had committed every bit of it to tier-1 priority. There would be no mistakes on his part.

Jazz nodded, serious as well. "Yes." He wanted this to work, for both of them. Wanted Prowl to have that feeling of never being alone that the other mech craved, wanted the reassurance of being wanted and needed always for himself. Wanted the stability they were both hoping it would provide.

The big medic stepped up to them and put a hand on each shoulder. "I'll do all I can to help this to work," he promised with all the weight of his titles behind it. Both medic and Knight spoke the same promise with the same intent.

"Thank you," Prowl said quietly. "Is there anything to do before we begin?"

"Just hooking up the sensors to alert me in case anything goes wrong," Redline motioned them to the medical berth and its extra collection of monitors.

"What is likely to happen if something does go wrong?" Prowl asked calmly.

Jazz hopped up on the end of the berth, dataports cover sliding back to allow Prowl to settle first and listened to Redline outline the potential risks once more.

"If the bond does not take the two of you will likely have to be physically separated. I have help on standby in case it is needed." Redline began as he started hooking monitors up to Prowl.

Prowl glance at Jazz before laying on the berth and opening his dataports as well. "Worst case, are either of us likely to display significant distress?" He hesitated. "You know we're both capable of significant violence if provoked, particularly Jazz."

"I have very strong, capable help on call." Redline assured him as he ran a check on the monitors connected to Prowl, making sure that all of them were functioning properly and establishing a baseline. "We are prepared, even if you do react violently."

He turned to Jazz, starting on the other mech with the same smooth professionalism. "What sort of medical intervention is needed will depend on how both of you react, and what goes wrong. Hopefully all I will have to do is hand you both a cube of high grade once the initial bond forms."

"Plan for the best, anticipate for the worst, mitigate what you can," Prowl summed up the tactician's oath, his frame relaxed. "I do not wish anyone damaged because of this. It is good you have help ready on the small probability that you can not subdue us yourself."

Redline checked the hook-up for Jazz and nodded in satisfaction at the reading that he got back. "Do you have more questions?"

"No," Prowl unlocked his chest plates and extended a hand, beckoning and offering to Jazz to join him. "I wish to begin."

The other mech moved forward smoothly, catching Prowl in a kiss that was more intended to calm him than anything else. Without hesitation Prowl kissed him back just as ardently as he had the night of their last merge. Strong black hands moved along Jazz's back, cupped his aft, then came back up to stroke the elegant sensor horns.

"I want you to be with me always," Prowl's whisper was spoken from every level of his being.

"Want to be with you." Jazz murmured in turn as he focused on Prowl, blocking out everything else. The hum of the machines, Redline's presence nearby, the bright wall of the medical room all faded as Jazz's awareness narrowed to the mech under him, the warmth of the spark that he could already feel as he offered his own, and the desire he had to touch it always.

Prowl's spark reached out eagerly. This mech, this act, always meant pleasure and joy and peace. It was only Prowl's extreme focus on how to form the bond that was different. This merge was not for pleasure. It was to do a job. It didn't make him shudder any less when the first tendrils connected with the familiar blue across from him.

There was an answering sigh of pleasure from Jazz at the first touch, and insight into his own focus as he lowered his frame slowly, self control guiding the merge into a smooth connection between now familiar sparks. ~You feel so good.~ He whispered across the connection, as though speaking any louder would be distracting. ~Can't wait to feel this all the time.~

Prowl's answering moan rewarded the thought, but it was the rush of heat that really spoke to how much Prowl wanted that. His charge was already peaking with occasional spikes about that artificially controlled level.

He _wanted_ like nothing else.

~Want you, your spark, always touching, always there,~ Prowl's mental voice was nearly a keen with how badly he wanted.

~Take it.~ Jazz offered, sinking lower and deepening the connection, offering all that he was to the other mech. ~Give me yours. Want to be _us_.~

What would have been an impossibility mere vorns before shown with bright hope before them. A future, one without fear, without war, and filled with hope and promise.

Prowl's spark, his awareness, his history, his hopes, fears, pains and joys were laid out for Jazz. Though they both knew they wouldn't remember more than tidbits when it was over, it was an intense vulnerability, and where most attempts to bond faltered.

Soothing acceptance caressed Prowl's spark as Jazz accepted everything that was offered, treasuring what was being given and offering in return. Having Prowl meant never having to deal with any of that alone again, more than worth the price. He couldn't even muster being surprised when even his darkest memories were accepted, care soothing the most painful edges.

Prowl knew him, had witnessed the worst he had done, and found nothing to turn away from. It was from Prowl's memories that Jazz understood. It wasn't just that Prowl loved him so he accepted him, Prowl had ordered many of those missions, whether or not Jazz went on them. Prowl, as part of Praxus, had witnessed, quite literally, every evil one mecha did to another. He did not, could not, see one act and judge it. It had to be put in full context of the lives that led up to it.

Even here Prowl was a tactician. Yet in the coldness of that function was an acceptance so total that Jazz could barely grasp it was real. And yet in a way it was another one of the that made them so perfectly suited for each other, balanced them in all their darkness and quirks, and made them able to accept what possibly no other mecha could.

~Ready?~ Jazz asked softly, centered and quiet, prepared. And wanting with all his spark.

~Yes,~ Prowl reached out with his arms and his spark, channeling all the energy he could draw into his spark towards forging that permanent connection with the spark jointed to his own.

In the first six nanokliks he knew that his concern of not being able to provide enough energy was true. Their only hope was that Jazz could make up the difference somehow. Energy flooded across the connection, a rising current as the mech on the other end threw everything he had and more at the connection, desperate to make it work. Despite trying everything he knew how, Prowl couldn't stop his systems from doing their function to protect his all-important tac-net, draining the charge away as quickly as it came. It was only with a full spark-to-spark overload that it couldn't cope, and that was only for a few nanokliks and a fraction of the energy pumped into him.

A soft, agonized keen rose from Prowl, answered by a much weaker but no less distressed wail from Jazz. They struggled blindly but in a full panic as strong hands moved to separate them. Suddenly Prowl went limp and dark, though his spark was still very much trying to hold onto the spark being dragged away from it.

~Jazz. Be still.~ A deep rumble of pure authority penetrated Jazz's weakened awareness as the merge ended. He saw Prowl's spark, still bright and strong, as automatic systems locked it away within Prowl's chest.

~No. Need...~ Denial rose against the authority, a rebelliousness that was a part of his very nature struggling against the authority in spirit, since his frame had nothing left to give. His entire consciousness focused on the mech he needed but couldn't reach. Distress and pure _pain_ radiated from his spark.

The authority didn't reply, but strong hands didn't give up as Jazz was laid on a berth and the universe dissolved into spark-centric _agony_.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz first awareness was that he was going through a medical boot up. The second thing he was aware of was that he didn't care. All he cared about the aching sense that _something_ was missing, and he desperately needed to find it. Some part of that need calmed when Prowl's field washed over him, pulsing into him with reassurance, care, and a lingering deep grief that was mostly an apology.

Fragments of memory started to connect in his processor, and Jazz struggled to boot faster, field reaching out as soon as it was no longer hindered by the medical overrides. Need, confusion, want and affection pushed through his field. Prowl responded with reassurance, desire, affection and need. And pain. So much pain that echoed Jazz's own.

A finger ghosted over Prowl's favorite dataport along with a sense of pleading. It took a moment for the request to register, but Jazz was forcing the cover open as soon as it did. The connection flooded him with a sense of _Prowl_ and so much of his distress calmed.

~I'm so sorry, love. I should have anticipated what happened,~ Prowl's apology spilled over in words, emotions and the absolutely terrifying sight of three experienced medics fighting to stop Jazz's spark from guttering while Axe held Prowl firmly away from the activity.

~I wanted it.~ Jazz argued, still confused, working through what had happened, what Prowl was showing him. ~Not all your fault. I-I wasn't strong enough. If I was stronger...~ Jazz's voice faded some as his energy fluctuated, throwing him off though not lessen any of the guilt traveling across the connection.

~Not your fault,~ Prowl said firmly. ~It was my systems that prevented...~ he shuddered, only belatedly realizing that he was overriding some of his own survival protocols to help stabilize Jazz, and doing so without conscious effort. ~Don't leave me,~ he whispered, desperate. ~I failed the bond, but I still want you.~

~Not going anywhere.~ Stubbornness rang in the response as he leaned into the stabilizing presence, borrowing Prowl's ability to focus and organize. ~Want you...~ His focus shifted out again, his spark flaring, looking for something.

~I couldn't give enough energy,~ Prowl whispered. ~It didn't stabilize. Your spark nearly guttered trying.~

The failure finally processed, and Jazz keened softly at the sense of failure that hit again, the unconscious agony from before he went under stasis rising again. There was no fear or concern for himself, the sensation of having _failed_ Prowl overriding the need for self-preservation.

~Sorry.~

~It was not your failure,~ Prowl repeated firmly. ~We survive. We'll make this work.~

Jazz's entire frame trembled as he worked through that. They were alive. They had survived, no matter what his spark was crying. ~Yes. Yes. Please.~ He agreed, reaching for Prowl, as his motor systems finally onlined.

"Don't cover his spark." The order came from nearby. Redline.

"I won't," Prowl promised even as he got on the berth and pressed close. ~I love you. I want you. This is not the end. It is only one option of several.~

Jazz curled into him as much as his weakened state would allow, not really processing the medic's words and not caring. His entire focus was on the frame next to his, the field weaving deeply with his own. ~Stay.~ He pleaded, systems starting to shut down in a more normal recharge despite his efforts to fight it.

~For as long as you want me,~ Prowl promised. ~Recharge. I will be here when you reboot.~

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It was good to finally come out of recharge and online his optics to something besides the pristine walls of the medical ward. Warnings flashed at him that his systems wanted energon, but for the moment Jazz dismissed them, curling into the warm frame wrapped around his and reassuring his panicking spark that Prowl was really there.

Strong black hands stroked his back and Prowl's steady field pulsed into him, adding to the reassurance. "Energon?" Prowl offered as much as instructed, shifting them both to a more upright posture that would make drinking easier.

"Please." Jazz sighed, nuzzling at the other mech neck and shoulder as his arms wrapped around Prowl, holding him close. He eagerly accepted it when Prowl offered to feed him, holding the cube so Jazz could continue to hold him. With energy readings back to normal, Jazz let out of sigh of relief, then a soft moan when Prowl tipped their helms for a long, tender but chaste kiss.

"I am very sorry for what you went through," Prowl murmured, his guilt spark deep.

"Shouldn't be." Jazz argued, relaxing against Prowl. "We decided to risk it. It was my choice."

Prowl claimed another gentle kiss as he tried to put together the right response. They parted slowly, with several small kisses. "Your choice, but my failure. I kept hearing you scream even in stasis."

Sadness rippled through the mingled fields. "Sorry. Don't want you to suffer." A small shudder ran through Jazz's frame at the memory of that pain. Agony that had overcome every effort of his to hold it in.

"Shu, I know," Prowl whispered with another gentle kiss. "Just as I didn't want you to suffer. It happened. Now we know much more and can plan our future accordingly."

"You have a plan?" Jazz asked, more asking for the details than the literal words of the questions. Planning was what Prowl did. Jazz just wanted to know where they were going next.

A tender, affectionate kiss was the first answer. "Whatever we need to, to remain together," came next. "I am going to ask for what I have no right to," he murmured, shamed and guilty but also far more afraid than Jazz had ever felt. It was the fear that ruled, and it was something Jazz understood. He could push back, force Prowl to respond and negotiate as a tactician, or he could accept what Prowl's fear dictated. Either way, it was Jazz's choice from the wording.

Instead Jazz nuzzled against him. "Tell me what _you_ need." He knew what his spark wanted, what he wanted, but Prowl still came first.

Prowl lowered his helm to gently touch forehelms. "I need you. I need ... want ... your spark. However I can get it."

"Merging." Jazz summed up. "I will try, with others." He sighed, gathering himself to reason through this. "There is Wing, and Thorn. And possibly Demeter, if she is willing. I will find some way."

Prowl kissed him, gratitude and relief deep in his field. "How can I repay you?"

"Remind you want me, need me, often. Even when we can't have what we want." Jazz asked, frame trembling at his own selfishness, of asking this of his lover.

His love.

Another tremble and a soft keen as that truth thrust to the front of his processor, against everything that had once made him Jazz, but what made him Jazz now.

And this is all FFN gets. Want to read the rest? Head over to Ao3  
Replace the space with a .  
archiveofourown org/works/631313/chapters/1269760


	14. The Price Too High

**Grasping a Chance 14: The Price Too High**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz could not have been more eager to finish the work orn and curl up next to Prowl. He'd merged with Wing and Thorn, and tonight it was Prowl's turn. Prowl, the only mecha he wanted to touch his spark. The merges with the Knights had been tolerable, both of them gentle and respectful, careful of him and his spark. Wing had remembered and indulged in Jazz's love of touching and being touched, but even with such a willing and tactile partner it hadn't been the same.

He wanted Prowl's spark. Craved Prowl's touch, physical and field. And as he bounded up the steps to the Citadel and headed for Prowl's room, still with Thorn, all he could think about was that Redline had said they could finally merge again, and he would finally have it. He saw Thorn on the couch and the black Knight threw him a grin.

"In his room. He has _plans_ for you tonight," Thorn added.

Jazz paused, looking at the dark mech, but when nothing more was offered he continued on his way, spark rising in anticipation as he hit the door. It slid open smoothly for him. It wasn't as if it locked anyway, but Jazz knew he was always welcome.

"Prowl?" He queried, taking in the darkened room. He could see Prowl's outline on the berth, watched the shadow stand and beckon him in.

"I thought we might try something a little more complex," Prowl's voice was a deep, sultry purr as he glided up to his lover and caressed Jazz's jaw up for a lingering kiss. "If you don't mind not being able to touch back for a while."

Jazz melted into the touch, the initial kiss, field sweeping out to surround the other with desire and surrender. "I trust you." Jazz answered simply as he leaned into another kiss.

"Thank you," Prowl's rumble was deep with anticipation mingled with desire. He stepped back, guiding Jazz to the berth and to his back. The kisses continued as Prowl followed him down and gently guided his wrists up, over his helm, then clicked a cuff around each. Jazz's fingers were guided down to two buttons on each cuff. "Press them both, and the cuffs open. Say no, stop or distress in your field, I'll stop," he promised. "I want this to be good for you. It's for you."

Jazz's field washed over him, warm with eager anticipation. "Where did this come from, love?" he asked, testing the strength of the cuffs before relaxing back on the berth. They were strong enough to hold through an overload, but wouldn't hold him if he was really trying.

"I wanted to do something special, different, to thank you for what you're doing for me," Prowl said quietly before kissing Jazz into a melted heap of mech. "I know how much you love being touched." He added as his hands caressed down Jazz's sides.

Jazz groaned, heat already building in his frame for Prowl to feel. "Love it when _you_ touch me." He said, attention split between looking into Prowl's optics and savoring the slide of the other mech's hands along his side.

"Good," Prowl's purr washed over him with a flare of excitement in Prowl's field. "Wish we didn't have to share. I don't want the others. I don't like that they have to touch you or me," he rumbled as his kisses moved down to caress Jazz's jaw, then up to trail a line along Jazz's visor. "I never thought to ask, but do you have optics, or is your visor your optics?"

The sudden change in topic threw Jazz for a moment, and he laughed. "My old one aided my vision. It was added with a rebuild after I joined. This one is mostly for looks. I have optics."

"Lift it?" Prowl asked, kissing the center of the band as his hands slid up Jazz's sides, slowly exploring, fingers slipping into gradually increasing gaps in the armor to stroke cabling, wires and gears below. "I'd like to see your optics."

There was a klik's delay as Jazz found the command and the visor retracted, revealing clear, ice blue optics, blazing with passion and pleasure. "Anything for you." Jazz murmured, armor fluffing away from his frame, offering as much access as possible.

"Beautiful," Prowl actually shivered, surprised by his own response to the color he once had. His lips ghosted over the right optic, not quite touching but close enough for Jazz to feel the EM field of Prowl's face through the optic sensors. "I'll do anything for you." His lips came down to Jazz's, still a bit shaken by what was going on inside his processor. "I lived for you."

Unable to fall back on his natural method offering comfort, Jazz fell to the second, and one that he knew worked so much better for Prowl. His field reached out, wrapping the other mech in a blanket of warmth, love, and gratitude. "Thank you." He whispered. Thanks for what Prowl was doing now. Thanks for what Prowl had overcome to stay. Thanks for the things in his own programming and nature that Prowl was still fighting to make this work.

The next kiss was deeper, full of hunger and eagerness that Prowl only barely had reined in. His hands continued along Jazz's sides, caressing from arm joints all the way down past the hip joints.

"I want you happy," Prowl said seriously when the kiss finally ended, his optics locked with his lover's. "I want you safe. I want you to look forward to every orn. Know that anything I do that might take us from this safety is not _my_ doing."

"I will." Promise and oath, locking the wish away in his processor should he ever need to recall it. Jazz arched his frame, twisting to claim Prowl's lips. "I look forward to every orn I am with you, here, where _we_ belong."

"Yes," Prowl moaned as he broke the kiss to deliver its attention to Jazz's neck and throat. "Protect me from myself. I will protect you from the universe."

An interesting promise, one that might have been laughable coming from anyone else. Coming from Prowl, it was one that Jazz believed with his entire spark as his helm twisted to the side, offering the vulnerable cables and lines running there to his lover's attention.

"Will protect you." Jazz promised. "_Want_ to protect you."

Prowl shuddered as a need was filled he didn't even recognize in himself until it was spoken. His field flared out, wrapping around Jazz's spark as he keened against neck cables and held his lover tightly. The trembling reaction didn't last long. It was Prowl's core nature to recover and adapt quickly. But it shattered the mech's plans for the evening with a desperate surge of need he couldn't deny.

The cuffs were undone with one hand as Prowl continued to mouth and kiss Jazz's throat. Hands returned Jazz's sides, stroking and pleasuring, but both of their attention focused on the parting of chest plates and the reach of two sparks that would no longer be patient for their frames.

"Yes." Jazz moaned, optics flaring bright before going dim as his attention shifted quickly, focusing inward as armor parted smoothly and his spark chamber shifted forward, already open as blue tendrils reached for the spark above it. They readily lost themselves in the pleasure and unity they both craved. Their frames became secondary, unimportant, only valued as the support structure that allowed the merge.

~Love you,~ Prowl whispered the words across the growing unity.

~Want you.~ Jazz answered, spark reaching out to pull the essence of Prowl deeper, closer to his core with a desire so strong it bordered on painful.

~Always.~ Prowl keened before gleefully losing himself in the unity he had craved since becoming a mech.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz shifted on the couch in the common area of Wing's quarters, waiting on the white jet to arrive. The night would end in the berthroom, but Jazz didn't want to go there any sooner than he had to.

He needed this, no matter how much he didn't want it. He needed it because he needed Prowl, and this was the only way.

That fact still didn't make it any easier.

"I'm so sorry," Wing's words actually preceded him into the room. "The meeting went far longer than planned and then I couldn't make up enough time with my duties to get here. Did you pick a vid or list to play?"

"Have a list." Jazz said, on his feet to greet the Knight before the door finished closing.

He was hoping the dancing would help, refocus him and drain off some of the energy plaguing him. Dancing wasn't entirely linked to Prowl in his processor yet, even if the memories of it he treasured most were.

"It's all right. Nothing that you can do about your duties, besides perform them." He added, reaching for the humor that was a central part of his nature. "Ready whenever you are."

Wing smiled warmly and extended his hand in offer, drawing Jazz to the center of his open floor. His field was full and warm, welcoming Jazz with the easy acceptance the Knight was graced with.

The grounder vented softly, giving into the Knight's lead as the music picked up. The beat was strong and heavy, something that Jazz could lose himself in, and not the softer, more intimate forms that suited his time with Prowl. He was grateful that Wing could keep up and that the mech did enjoy dancing. It made it so much easier to lose himself. Wing wasn't the master that Jazz was, but the Knight knew his frame and knew how to move and balance like any good dancer. His field was nice too. Warm, smooth and welcoming. Easy with acceptance and never demanding.

Much like the jet himself.

Jazz was grateful of this fact. Of the effort that Wing was putting into this. Of all that jet did. But tonight not even dancing was saving him, and when the current song came to an end it was Jazz who stopped the playlist.

Wing extended his hand, but his field was uncertain, gently questioning.

"Need this." Jazz said, taking the other's hand and trying to convince them both.

Wing nodded and drew him close, his hands skimming along Jazz's sides, trying to rouse at least physical desire as they moved towards Wing's room. "You may not desire me, but it can at least feel good."

Jazz sighed, kissing the other softly, hands skimming over slender white wings and trying to play along. "It's not you. It does feel good."

There was physical pleasure there, but in the end, no matter what he told himself, on some level it still felt like betrayal. To Prowl, and to himself, when all his spark wanted was the other grounder's.

"I know," Wing whispered as Jazz lay on the soft berth, and it was only a partial lie. "He is your one. It's wrong that you must be with others to have him."

Despite the words, Wing covered Jazz's frame with his own and kissed him again, trying his best to make the situation bearable by rousing the physical pleasure high enough.

He could feel Jazz going limp under him, frame giving into the touches and responding almost on reflex as the other mech focused inward, on his spark and what needed to be done. Hands reached up to continue tracing the Knight's wings, attempting to return what was being given.

Wing hummed in appreciation and focused his attention on Jazz's chest, on the seam that would part. He unlocked his armor and cracked it, just enough to display his readiness when Jazz was. The first hints of the glowing golden light was enough to catch Jazz's attention once more, and his chest plates parted, if somewhat slowly and reluctantly, to reveal the flaring blue spark below.

The golden spark reached out, eager and happy for the offered merge. Golden tendrils caressed Jazz's chamber, trying to entice it to open. Frame and spark shuddered together at the touch, and slowly the protective crystal spiraled open, allowing the first contact, and the last.

With a cry of distress and pain that radiated through every point of contact between them Jazz threw the other mech off and away, desperation making the act far easier than it should have been. Wing permitted it without resistance, landing easily on his pedes and standing still.

Spark chamber and armor snapped closed as the grounder turned away, curled protectively around his spark as he lay on the berth and sobbed, field a tangled mess of emotion and distress.

Cautiously Wing approached, his field preceding him full of acceptance, desire to comfort and gentle friendship that demanded nothing. No kind of arousal was in that field, only platonic care. The rejection of the other mech was gone as quickly as it had come, now that his spark no longer felt threatened. After a klik of stillness the Jazz's field finally reached back, though the grounder made no move from his current defensive posture on the berth.

With a release of tension Wing settled on the berth, his hip against Jazz's back and gently stroked his shoulder. "Will you be okay?"

"No." It hard fact to admit, but Jazz was in no shape to lie at the moment. A soft keen escaped him, one of failure and distress. He had failed Prowl. Prowl needed him, and Jazz couldn't give him what he needed. What Jazz had promised.

"It's possible that the device Redline used on you before will work," Wing said softly, knowing he was setting himself up for quite a lecture from the medic.

It took a klik for the words to sink in, but once they did the Knight had Jazz's full attention. "What device?" He demanded, a frantic hope lighting his field.

"When the bond failed, he had to shock your spark with a cycling frequency," Wing shuddered. "It disrupted your connection before. It might again."

Jazz fell back on the berth, processing that for a long time. "So this...whatever...could do what merging does? Prowl and I...I wouldn't have to merge with others. We could merge..." His thoughts were spinning, but when they finally settled it boiled down to one conclusion.

He had a chance. There was hope.

"I'm not sure, but it's worth talking to Redline, isn't it?" Wing suggested carefully.

Jazz nodded, frame finally relaxing on the berth. "As soon as he has time, tomorrow. I-I have to."

Wing continued to gently stroke Jazz's side. "Come on then. Let's drop you off at Thorn's. Even if you can't merge tonight, you can recharge together."

With a sigh Jazz leaned into the touch, then sat up on the bed. "Thank you. I'm sorry." He looked up at the other mech, finally starting to get some of his composure back. And with it was true apology for what he had just put the Knight through.

"It's all right," Wing stroked Jazz's leg, then followed the other mech to stand. "I hope Prowl comes to grips with his fears soon."

"What?" Jazz asked, helm tilted to the side as he walked with Wing from the berthroom.

Wing looked a bit surprised, then shook his helm. "It's his tac-net protection that prevented the bonding. You can bond, but he has to have the entire system shut down for it. At least that's my understanding from Thorn."

A small shudder ran through Jazz. "He won't. From what he says-" Jazz waved a hand helplessly. "His tac-net is who he thinks he is. If Redline can help me, he won't have to."

"I'll make sure Redline's expecting us after breakfast," Wing promised before they walked in silence to Thorn's quarters.

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Jazz made his way into the medical wing, walking behind Wing, both of them carefully punctual. Wing had kept his word and made sure that Redline had time to see Jazz early in the orn, after the disastrous episode the night before.

Prowl had thankfully asked no questions, simply allowing his lover to climb into the berth with him and fall into a much needed recharge. The Praxian was just happy to have him there and snuggled close, purring softly as they shut down for the night, each in their own way. It allowed Jazz to boot up more refreshed than he'd expected, curled into Prowl with Prowl wrapped around him. The morning's pleasure had been simple and over relatively quickly, though it was anything but perfunctory. Nothing Prowl took so much pleasure in could be perfunctory.

The big red and white Knight was not in a good mood when they walked in, but motioned Jazz to a berth without chastising him. Wing hung back, closer to the door. He wouldn't leave unless ordered to and even Jazz could see it in his half-defiant stance.

Redline ignored the young jet in favor of focusing on Jazz. "What do you remember of having the spark frequency modulator used on you?"

"I don't." Jazz admitted quietly. "All I remember is...hurting. And being angry." He added after a moment's consideration as he settled on the berth and forced himself to relax as best as he could. He had learned long ago that the best thing one could do with a medic, especially when one came asking for help, was be as cooperative as possible.

"The most common description I've heard is that it feels like your spark is alternately frozen solid and flying apart," Redline said seriously. "It is, at best, an agonizing experience. It will do what you want," he locked optics with the young mech. "It is not a good option, however. The pain and energy will eventually degrade your systems if it doesn't drive you insane."

"Is there another option?" Jazz asked, willing to listen to other ideas.

"The one you've just refused to continue, the one Prowl has refused to do and the one you both reject," the medic huffed. "So not until Prowl changes his mind."

"Then this is the only option." Jazz stated, settling back on the berth in acceptance.

Redline nodded and went to gather what he needed. By the time he returned, the main door slid open for Thorn and a slightly confused looking Prowl.

"Good timing," Redline glanced at them, then pointed to where Wing was standing.

Prowl's scowl deepened as he looked between Jazz, Redline and the spark frequency modulator.

It was only now that the medic met his first resistance from Jazz. "Why are they here?"

"Prowl deserves to know what is happening to you," Redline said simply and saw things connect for the Praxian.

Ignoring the medic's presence Prowl walked up to his lover and brushed Jazz's cheek. "Merging is that painful for you?"

Jazz's frame started to tremble at the touch, unable to meet Prowl's optics as his field pulled in around him. "Couldn't with Wing last night. Tried, but-, not with anyone else. Not with anyone but you."

"You weren't going to tell me," Prowl murmured, stroking Jazz's cheek. "Not until I noticed you were being damaged."

"My fault." Jazz whispered, leaning into the touch. "I need it. We need it. It would be worth it."

"How is this your fault?" Prowl's frown deepened again, though he continued to stroke Jazz's cheek. "You did everything right."

"Because I can't go through with the merging." Jazz murmured.

Prowl tipped his face up so their optics met. "Because I could not form the bond. Because I am afraid of what will allow it to form. The only failure that I can see is valuing yourself too little."

"You are worth it." Jazz insisted, calm in this knowledge as he looked up at Prowl.

"You've paid for my failures before," Prowl's harmonics shifted, drawing on command he had been given as an Autobot and sparked into as part of Praxus. "Not this time. This is too much. This will destroy you."

Jazz's world narrowed to Prowl. "Nothing is too much." It was a truth that Jazz had struggled long and hard with before he'd come to terms with it. Now though, it was just another part of him. "You cannot do the other. I can not merge with others. I can do this."

"I can," Prowl's armor tightened, quivering. His fear was clear to everyone and he was no longer trying to hide it. "Fear is not the same as impossible. Damaging yourself is not the best way to protect me."

"Then what do you wish me to do?" Jazz demanded, frustration and need flaring in his field to push against Prowl, needing answers. He had chosen his path, but the one that he had chosen for was now denying him.

Prowl gathered him close and rested their forehelms together. "Try to remember that damaging yourself will never be what I want. This treatment, once. So we can merge and settle. To give Redline and myself time to prepare for the next bonding attempt."

"Very well." Jazz agreed, nuzzling him affectionately before his attention shifted to Redline, now that he had permission.

"I'd prefer you in stasis for this," the medic said firmly, shooing Prowl away.

"Not going to argue with that." Jazz said, much more at ease now that there was hope and a plan. He was still going to address his lover and this stress Prowl was placing on himself, but both of them needed to settle before anything could really happen. "If what I remember is anything like what this is going to be, I'd appreciate it."

The medic nodded. Jazz felt himself go under, absently realizing that the medical table must be pretty advanced to do that.

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Jazz did his best not to fidget as he watched Redline physically remove several substantial pieces of Prowl's internals, cut wires and spend entirely too many joors checking the edits he'd made to Prowl's boot sequence. He hadn't wanted to see his lover mangled like this, had still tried to talk Prowl out of it after they had finally merged. The larger mech had been insistent though, his path as firmly set in his processor as Jazz's had been, and finally Jazz had given in.

He had been warned what was going to happen, what to expect in Prowl with all the changes. Anxiety still made his spark cringe in fear. This could always fail as well, despite Redline's confidence. And his personal worry that somehow this Prowl wouldn't know him or want him, and that all this effort would be for nothing. The list of what was coming out or being disabled was extensive, but really smelted down to everything above Prowl's most basic self-awareness. Everything linked into the tac-net had to be off line, and it was only with asking about this that Jazz had understood just how serious Prowl was when he said he'd been created to support the tac-net, rather than the other way around.

At last Redline seemed to relax and looked at Jazz, Wing and Thorn. "I'm bringing him on line now."

Jazz nodded in understand, frame twitching in his desire to move closer and his field reaching out for the comfort and assurance of the Knights nearby instead. They were not who his spark _wanted_, but they were safe and trusted, and right now any bit of comfort was good. Wing's hand found his shoulder, adding physical touch to the support.

They were all worried. The steady hum of readouts and Redline's calm lack of action were both soothing as Prowl booted up. A process that only took a couple kliks, rather than the breems it would have to initialize and load everything he normally had going on.

"Prowl?" Redline asked, still plugged into the mech.

"Yes. You are Redline." Prowl responded. His voice was flat, choice of glyphs simple, but there was some knowledge there. "Jazz?" He had to work to remember how to move his helm.

"Yes." Jazz answered instantly, hopeful at the early mention of his designation as he moved to be more in Prowl's line of vision, as he trembled with the desire to approach, to come closer and feel for himself that this was still Prowl. He did when Redline motioned him forward and quickly caressed Prowl's field with his own.

This was the spark he loved, no question of it. The mech it powered though... Jazz knew sparklings with more processor influence in their fields.

"We bond now?" Prowl focused on Jazz. He knew he should feel loss, that much was missing, but his only focus was on what he knew. He'd done something massive to himself to be with Jazz.

"Soon." Jazz promised, moving closer to the other mech and reaching out with love and affection and comfort, knowing that Prowl could feel even if he didn't entirely process what he was feeling. The words painful as he looked to Redline, field pleading. "When?"

"He's stable and I'm ready if it goes wrong," the medic unplugged from Prowl. "You will have to lead. He is self-aware, but so much of his memory is only accessed through his tac-net that he only knows the tiny bits he managed to put in the boot sector storage. You need to be sure enough of this that his lack of ability to say no won't hamper the process."

Jazz nodded, but he was shaking.

"What is wrong, Jazz?" Prowl asked. He couldn't follow what he was teeking, but he recognized the shift as something not good.

Jazz gathered the other mech too him, soothing them both with being near. "I am afraid. Do not worry." He instructed, keeping things simple as his hands smoothed over the other mech's frame and Jazz centered himself. His spark wanted this, wanted this chance, and they had all agreed to hope that would be enough.

Prowl nodded and snuggled close, holding onto Jazz as well. His field, his spark knew the one close to his and wanted it. "Nothing to fear." Prowl told him. Repeating a tiny bit of knowledge he had.

"We bond now." Jazz murmured, relaxing.

Prowl relaxed and Jazz let him lay on the berth. He looked up at the face of the mech he would bond with. He knew it should bother him that he didn't know what that meant, but he trusted what was in his memory, small as it was.

Trust Jazz.  
Trust Medic.  
Bond with Jazz.  
Nothing to fear.

There was little else in his awareness. Prowl could only look to Jazz and wait for instructions.

Gentle hands stroked over his frame, comfort to the mech above him as Jazz assured himself once more that this was Prowl with him. Gathering himself, he leaned down and caught Prowl's lips in a gentle kiss.

"Open." He instructed, leading by example as his chest plates parted and exposed his spark for the other to see. "Let me have your spark." There was a part of Jazz that was rebelling at this whole process, of _instructing_ another who didn't entirely understand what was going on to essentially hand over his entire existence. Reaching deep, he pulled up the memories of that last merge, of Prowl's assurance that Prowl wanted him, and to order of Prowl whatever needed to be done.

There was no hesitation below him. Dark chest plates parted, offering up the brilliant ice blue space that was Prowl's core. As the chamber iris opened near-white leaders searched for the spark they could feel close.

Softer blue wisps reached out from Jazz's own spark, teasing and twining with the ones below and dragging a moan of longing and relief from Jazz as the contact did what nothing else so far had done. It assured him that this was his love, and that this was wanted, even if it wasn't currently understood. That fact rose as a driving factor for Jazz, urging him to push the simple, pure contact deeper.

~Remember. We bond. Not overload.~ Jazz had to repeat the glyphs as a litany for himself and his lover. The first touch of coronas was warning enough that Prowl in this state had very limited self-control. Basic interfacing protocols wanted an overload. Bonding was not a normal thing to do. But Prowl responded, the four orders left in his boot cycle memory demanded obedience to Jazz.

So Prowl focused on bonding, on calling up those protocols, even without understanding what it was he was agreeing to.

~Yes. Good. More.~ Jazz praised and urged, forcing himself to remain focused despite the desire to give into his lover's wants. Wants that were so alien to Prowl that is a little bit of a shock to Jazz feel them now. He pushed that aside, focusing on the energy between his spark and Prowl's, on building and channeling the charge. There was a momentary flare of fear, his spark remembering what had happened the last time it was in this position even if Jazz's processor did not.

But instead of finding a bottomless well this time there was an answer, charge pushing back and mingling with his own, and it drew another moan from Jazz as he held the other mech closer, sparking sinking deeper until there was no visible difference between the two.

Prowl's spark, empty of memories and understanding it could draw from its frame, still welcomed him with an open joy and desire that made Jazz's spark sing. Jazz opened himself up fully, offering Prowl everything he was. His hopes, fears, losses, joys, faults and pride.

Answering back was a single thing: to be complete.

Stripped of any understanding or history, Prowl's spark still knew what it was meant to be, and that it was missing that.

~Yes. You will be.~ Jazz promised, letting go and offering _everything_ to the connection, channeling it with the desire to make it permanent and falling into the blazing exchange of energy. It was impossibly different from the first try. As different from that nightmare as his most intense overload was to what Prowl normally felt.

Slowly, gently, Jazz returned to awareness. It wasn't booting up, but a coming down from an overload so intense it should have knocked him out. It wasn't an overload though, and for a moment he thought they were still merged. There was a warmth in his spark, the familiar sensation he got from Prowl of snuggling against and inside the thing that made him feel whole. His armor was closed though, and while he was sprawled on top of Prowl, they had no connection in the physical world.

Joy filled him, singing across the connection in a glorious blaze of delight and contentment as weakly held the other mech to him. ~It worked. My love.~

~I like this,~ Prowl purred back, fascinated by the new connection in his spark. ~It feels good.~

~Good.~ Jazz whispered. ~It is yours. Forever.~ He promised, meaning every word that he uttered and savoring the presence he had craved so long in his spark.

"Jazz," Redline managed to get his attention. "Can you handle Prowl for the night? It really would be best if I recharge before putting him back together."

Jazz nodded from where he was still sprawled on the other mech. "I think so. It, he feels..." A small shudder ran through Jazz's frame as he kissed Prowl's helm, the gentle motion full of affection.

"His spark remembered yours," the medic said gently. "That is what is important. The bond is solid for its age. That can't happen if he didn't want it to."

The smaller mech nodded in contentment. 'What do I need to watch for, with him like this?" He asked softly, his field thick with the desire to care for and protect his bonded, and the willingness to whatever was required.

"Watch his energy levels, and I do not recommend letting him wander," Redline said seriously. "No more than one cube of low-grade, no matter what he says. If his energy levels drop below 97%, bring him here. It's possible he will try to fuel for his full system use, rather than what he has. At most he's using 3% of what he does fully intact. A single cube of low-grade would power him for upwards of three full orns. It would be best if you get him in his berth, snuggle close and both of you recharge until it's time to come back for repairs."

Redline paused, regarding Jazz for a moment. "I need you to make sure he actually enters recharge. This will be the first time he's ever done so. It is not normal for his systems to shut down that far."

"We're going to be there too," Thorn said quietly, his focus on both newly bonded mecha. "I'll be in the living room."

Jazz nodded in thanks and understanding to the Knight. "Any reason why I shouldn't stay hardlined once I get him down?"

"Nothing unusual," Redline shook his helm. "It should be perfectly safe, assuming you've done so before."

That comment drew laughs from the other Knights in the room. "We find them like that more mornings than not." Wing explained with a smile, observing the pair still on the medical berth.

"It'll let me track his recharge." Jazz pointed out quietly.

"That would be good," Redline nodded. "You can take him now. Be back at 5th joor."

Wing made a face at getting up so early. Thorn's amusement was clear for the other Knight to feel, and with it was affectionate approval as he watched Jazz rise and carefully help Prowl from the medical berth, steering the larger mech with ease.

"Want to take them to my quarters, or get the energon they need?" He asked.

"I'll get the energon," Wing said, also watching the pair affectionately. "I'm glad this worked. It's too cruel not to be able to be with the one you want."

Thorn was quiet, nodding as he stepped he opened the door and led the way from room. He would make sure there were as few obstacles as possible in getting the pair to his quarters where they could rest and recharge. It was unsettling for him to see Prowl so vacant, though reassuring in how he responded to Jazz. Even without his processors, Prowl was clearly very much in love with his mate. Hopefully the bond would remain strong when Prowl was himself again.

He stepped aside after entering his quarters to watch Jazz lead Prowl to their room. Gentle, affectionate touches steered Prowl to the secondary berth room, and just as much attentive care went into make sure that Prowl was arranged comfortably on the berth, wings and frames supported perfectly.

"My love. Beautiful." Jazz murmured as he settled on the berth beside Prowl, frame curling protectively and possessively around the other. It was a movement that Prowl responded to by curling in as well, wanting the contact and closeness to the other half of his bond. One hand reached up to stroke Prowl's main dataport. "Open."

Prowl snuggled a bit closer and obeyed without question, offering his systems to his bonded.

"Good." Jazz praised, kissing him gently as he plugged in, matching approval echoing across the new bond between them. Prowl snuggled into that approval, his spark pulsing happily at being connected once more. Jazz was used to not facing firewalls with Prowl, though it was in part because he never went where he wasn't welcome. He knew the potential was there, though. Prowl always had the potential to kick him out and lock him out.

That was no longer true. Firewalls were replaced by the fact that so much had simply been unplugged or removed. Prowl didn't need firewalls to speak of.

It was another shock from his mate, one that he quickly smoothed over with more approval and affection as he nuzzled against Prowl's very spark. ~How is your energy level?~

He could look himself, but he wanted so make sure the other mech could track it himself. He watched Prowl call up the data.

~99.98%. That should be good until morning?~ Prowl half said, half asked. He remembered Redline's instructions to Jazz, and managed to apply it, but he wasn't at all sure if he was correct.

~It should be.~ Jazz said, approval ringing in the response. ~If it gets to here-.~ He pointed out the 97% marker. ~Let me know.~

~I will,~ Prowl promised, innocent and earnest.

~Good.~ Jazz murmured again, holding the other close as he checked his own levels. They were high enough to last until morning, even with all of the energy he'd expended, and right now the medic's orders of recharge were sounding better by the klik.

Carefully he reached into Prowl's systems and found the recharge sequence, pointing them out to the other mech. ~Time to rest.~

There was a moment where Prowl just sort of stared at him in the join space, blank confusion written in his thoughts, before he managed to piece together that Jazz meant him to activate that sequence. Once he figured that out, there was no hesitation. Prowl did as he was told and Jazz was shown just how fast a mecha with so few systems could shut down.

The experience was rather disconcerting, and Jazz was not settled until he had checked his mate over the bond and the hardline connection. Finally satisfied that all was well and the safeties were in place, he initiated his own recharge cycle, peacefully sinking into the rest that his systems were demanding.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

It was probably only the extreme circumstances surrounding the whole scenario that prompted Redline to endure the nervous, fidgeting mech across the medical berth from him.

Jazz had been very careful to remain out of the medic's way, but he was hovering just on the border of underpede. He knew, and somewhere he cared, but both of those facts meant little to his quivering spark at the moment. The bond was pulsing steadily, Prowl's spark strong on the other end. But Prowl was also in deep medical stasis and having core components reinstalled.

There was a very real question on whether the specialized systems would boot up right after being disabled and parts of them taken out. Even though it was only the overload prevention parts that had come out, it was still a dangerous thing to mess with a mecha's processor on this level and everyone knew it.

Would Prowl be himself when he booted up? Would he be the simple mech he was without it? Would something go wrong and short out, leaving his spark alive but his frame processor-dead? Would Prowl even remember the bonding? Would the specialized systems, realizing what the bond actually did, reject Jazz and what had been done?

The only solace Jazz had in all of this was that Prowl's spark was still strong and so was their bond. That felt so very good.

"All right, you can snuggle," Redline huffed as he stepped away a bit to monitor Prowl's boot sequence.

Jazz was on the wide berth in an instant, mindful of Prowl's wing sensors but desperate to be close as his frame molded around his bonded, field sweeping out and full of all the love and affection he could channel into it. He felt it in Prowl's field when physical systems began to power up and operate, and could follow the gradual progress of Prowl coming on line from deep medical stasis just in the changes he could feel.

With the first personality components loaded the bond surged, first with confusion then with delight, awe, gratitude.

A whimper of joy and relief escaped Jazz, one hand reaching out to stroke over the sleek chest armor of his mate as answering emotions flooded across the bond. Matching awe, joy at Prowl's delight, shared awe at the depth of the connection, and hope.

"Love you." Jazz whispered, not caring what anyone else in the room heard or saw in the moment. Prowl was awake, more aware than he'd been for the bonding and Prowl still _wanted_ him. Prowl still wanted the bond. So many of Jazz's fears melted away.

~Yes,~ the pulse along the bond was more sensation than word or glyph, but it was full of the affection, desire and loyalty that Jazz had come to associate with Prowl's spark.

The last of the tension in Jazz's frame vanished, and his frame molded around the other, as close as it could as Jazz simply listened and felt. Love and affection, the steady hum as more of Prowl's systems online and integrated, the growing awareness, physical and mental of his mate.

And all of the safety and care that it represented.

When Prowl was fully booted, he remained still for a long klik, examining the new addition to his reality. With all the innate curiosity of a being whose function was to know and organize, Prowl studied this new part of himself. With every passing moment, Jazz felt him relax just a little more, comforted by the intimacy of being linked to another. It wasn't being part of a city, it wasn't the paradise he had once known, but it felt very good.

"It worked," Prowl's first words were full of warmth as he shifted to hold onto Jazz.

"Yes." Jazz agreed with another surge of joy, moving to accommodate the motion of his love and claim a kiss from him, physical celebration of the joy in his spark. ~Yours now, always.~

~Never alone again. Either of us,~ Prowl shivered slightly and kiss him in return. ~Never alone, never have to be with another.~

~Only want to be with you.~ Jazz replied, freely losing himself in the warm bliss that was Prowl.

"Okay you two, before you work up to reinforcing the bond, get to your room," Redline broke in. "Thorn and Wing have instructions. You aren't going anywhere for at least three orns. They'll bring you energon and coolant and anything else you need."

Jazz couldn't help but laugh, moving off his mate and sliding from the berth so Redline could finish unhooking the last of the monitors and free Prowl.

~Going to enjoy making this stronger.~ He purred over the bond, optics glued on Prowl.

~As will I,~ Prowl's reply was full of desire. He moved as soon as Redline unhooked the last connection and pulled Jazz close. "Mine," he rumbled into a hard kiss. His tac-net was already sending unhappy warnings about the emotional level, but he ignored it.

~Yours.~ Jazz purred, the returned kiss just as possessive. ~Though I think we should take what is ours and leave, before Redline has us thrown out.~

Prowl chuckled across the bond, the ripple of humor not showing in his field at all.

"You're in my room tonight," Wing said cheerfully as he waved them towards the door. "Try not to get too distracted before Thorn brings your energon."

"I'll fly," The black Knight's deep red optics glittered with knowing approval as he quickly cleared the door and transformed.

Jazz reined himself in for the trip, content to walk as close to his bonded as he could with a melded field and teasing across the spark connection. Wing's field, when it brushed them, was full of good humor and happiness. The Knight chatted of unimportant things, too excited to remain quiet as they walked the halls to his quarters.

Thorn was waiting for them inside, the doorless balcony an easy access. "Here," he offered each of them three cubes. "Drink as you need it. I'll bring more in the morning."

"We will behave," Prowl promised. "We will keep our energon up, and call for help should anything go wrong in my processor."

Jazz nodded in agreement, already starting on the energon that had been provided in anticipation of the energy he was hoping to use soon.

Still laughing, the Knights shooed the pair in the direction of Jazz's berth, Thorn breaking off to select a movie for the Knights to watch as they kept watch.

"It was worth it," Prowl drew Jazz against him as the door to their room closed, their forehelms resting against each other. "All the pain, stress and risk was worth it for this."

Jazz shuddered in his arms, holding Prowl close and felt the embrace returned just as strongly. "So glad you think so."

Prowl nudged Jazz's helm up for a tender kiss and eased him to the berth. "I'm glad Redline didn't ask us to merge where he could watch the first one." His hands slid along Jazz's armor, trying to entice some pleasure for their frames. "Bonding with so much company was disturbing enough."

"But worth it." Jazz whispered, shivering at the knowing touches of his bonded and lover as his fingers traced the elegant lines of Prowl's sensor wings. He vaguely recalled the others, but so much of his attention had been focused on Prowl, just as it was now.

"Yes," Prowl agreed, an intense pulse of just how worth it it was to him flooding the bond. He relaxed over Jazz, trading a few more kisses and touches before unlocking his chest plates. "I want to feel this, the full extent of what we have."

Jazz purred, hand reaching around to stroke over Prowl's chest as his own unlocked and parted slightly in matching answer. "As do I. Want to feel it, to feel _you_ again, as deep as I can. To make this-" He sent a pulse over the bond, "- as strong as possible."

Prowl shuddered with a deep, engine rumbling moan. His armor parted quickly, his spark chamber already opening and tendrils reaching for the spark now associated with more of itself.

For a klik Jazz held on to drag the pleasure and anticipation out, fingers reaching to caress the chamber and tease the glowing tendrils of energy that tickled his fingers. Above him Prowl shuddered and moaned, surrendering to the pleasure his lover caused, his enjoyment of it pulsing through the bond with each touch.

"Love you, want you," Prowl moaned, his armor fluffing out to help expel heat and extend his rising pleasure. "Feels so good."

"Always want you. Always want it to feel good." Jazz purred, delighted with the response from his bonded as he gave into the demands of his own spark, allowing his armor to part the rest of the way and expose the already reaching spark. Blue tendrils reached and met, entwining and merging, deepening the connection.

~Jazz!~ Prowl's keen of pleasure was a short, sharp sound that ended in a sob when the hardware protecting his tac-net caught his growing charge and siphoned it away. ~Felt so good.~ He trembled over his lover, lowering himself and his spark blindly. It wanted closer and he obeyed. The ecstasy of his lover flowed through the bond, allowing him to feel what was possible even if he couldn't experience it fully.

~Feel.~ Jazz urged before he started to fall himself, channeling everything that he _felt_ over the connection. The love, the bliss of another spark next to his, the blinding pleasure of the charge racing through him. Offering everything that he could to his love, his spark. His effort was returned with Prowl's thanks, wonder and his effort to enhance Jazz's pleasure because he enjoyed making Jazz feel good.

By the time their cores met the pair were both shaking, keening softly between less understandable sounds of their pleasure and joy. The blending of sparks that knew and wanted each other was a heaven that both had craved for so long without completely knowing what they were missing, and now could not live without.

~Never going to leave you.~

It was debatable which side said it, for both felt it just as strongly and rejoiced in that truth that could not be taken from them.


	15. Unusual Arrangements

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**Grasping a Chance 15: Unusual Arrangements**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wing met up with Thorn outside the black Knight's quarters, confident that Demeter would have no trouble in watching their charges. The couple may have been bonded for over a century, but they still behaved as new lovers. A berth and energon would keep them happily entertained, if noisy, for joors on end.

"Get everyone settled?" Thorn asked with a smile, sure that Prowl and Jazz were not going to get into anything other than each other.

"Yep," Wing chirped happily as they walked towards the offices of the Knights' leadership. "I think they could be used as the 'this is what happily bonded looks like.'" He giggled happily. "They're adorable."

"It is good that they have settled into that so well. I'm glad, as difficult as it has been for them, they deserve some happiness." Thorn said as they pinged for admittance. The door slid open as Wing hummed his agreement, not at all surprised to see both his creators in the Sovereign's office.

"Who is watching them?" Dai Atlas asked even before the door closed behind the pair.

"Demeter is watching them. Or rather, I am willing to wager that she is reading something and listening to them." Thorn informed them.

Wing snickered. "They were entertaining themselves on the berth when I left."

"Very well," Dai Atlas nodded, ignoring the pleased amusement from his mate. "What brings you here?"

"Offering them the chance to be on their own again." Thorn said quietly. "They have been nothing but honest and productive since Prowl was treated, and even more so now that they have successfully bonded."

"They were productive and good citizens even before that, except for what Prowl's code demanded of him," Wing added. "I think it's time to let them be under looser surveillance."

Dai Atlas hummed. "And what form will this looser surveillance take?"

"They have been allowed unsupervised time in our quarters, for longer periods of time. We would like to discuss letting them have their own space again, and more freedom." Thorn suggested.

Dai Atlas hummed. "In the city?"

"Actually, no." Thorn said. "Both have expressed an interest in remaining citizens of the Citadel, if it would be allowed. Their entire reason for wanting to be away from here is gone, and as Prowl pointed out, if we are going to watch him the rest of his existence, we might as well make it as easy as possible on everyone involved."

"How much does that fact seem to bother them?" Dai Atlas glanced between the Knights.

"Prowl seems to have difficulty grasping the idea that he wouldn't be watched if he hadn't tried to escape," Thorn answered. "He's been under heavy scrutiny his entire existence prior to us. It is simply normal to him."

"Jazz has a much harder time dealing with the constant supervision. Not so much an objection to having another mech around as the fact that he has to find someone willing to go along every time he wants or needs to go somewhere. It frustrates him." Wing explained. "Though as long as Prowl remains in the city, he won't stray far. And I don't think he has a desire for Prowl to be anywhere but here."

"Because Prowl is safe here," Axe nodded. "He said it clearly enough before the Circle. We control Prowl, we control him."

"Just as controlling Jazz will give us control of Prowl," Dai Atlas added. "Do they understand that remaining in the Citadel means they will have duties to the Citadel?"

Thorn actually snorted through his vents. "They're both former military. They won't have any more trouble with the rules here than the rest of the former military. It's natural to them both. They just asked what's expected of them. Fees, chores and rules."

"And really, it's not that much of a change for them anyway, since they haven't spent a lot of time living anywhere but here since they arrived." Wing added. "Jazz might stretch the rules some, but even he will obey them. Just not to the letter, like Prowl is inclined to."

"And what do they expect of their quarters here?" Dai Atlas asked as he tapped through the menu on his desktop screen.

"Comfortable for a bonded couple, though neither of them are used to a lot of space. A berthroom, a common area with enough space for Jazz to dance, and a work area for Prowl." Thorn started.

"Both expressed an interest in a room with a balcony, though they also admitted that neither of them are fliers, and understand if that limits their options there." Wing added.

"Why do they want a balcony if they do not fly?" Dai Atlas cocked his helm, honestly curious. "I would think an open window would do."

"It is difficult to get much of an answer out of either of them," Thorn admitted. "Jazz says it's because he wants to feel what he's seeing. Prowl nearly locked up the first time I asked. Eventually he managed something about being Praxian and seeing the city."

Dai Atlas nodded. "That makes sense when you know where Praxians came from. The Seeker coding in them is highly fragmented and largely obsolete, but it's still there. On a very base level, he is a flier."

"Is that why he wants to _see_ the city?" Thorn was very curious. He'd never gotten much out of his charge and he knew it was because Prowl didn't know. "Bits of flier code left over."

"Possibly, though I suspect it has more to do with the tactical and management coding he has. His function was to organize and govern part of a city if I understand his origins correctly. He wants to see it because he can't feel it anymore."

"Shouldn't be as hard to accommodate as they think." Axe prodded his mate.

"No, it won't be," Dai Atlas agreed, accepting many things with the statement.

"The other things they want- some rather necessary some not, like a sound system and an aerial grade berth- they know they'll need to purchase themselves." Thorn said, listing things that were technically luxuries, even here in New Crystal City.

"They have the credits saved up for it, and really everything they already own. They did buy the stuff we took into our inventory from their apartment," Wing pointed out. "They should get those things back."

Dai Atlas nodded once more and quickly scrolled through data to tag a few things. "They paid for their crimes. Confiscating their property was not part of their penalty. It will be returned, or a comparable match."

"So is that a yes?" Wing asked, excitement picking up at the idea that he was going to be able to deliver good news to the couple.

"Yes, their transfer to new quarters will be arranged," Dai Atlas responded. "Expect the notification within a decaorn. We have empty quarters that are close to suitable for them."

Wing chirped in excitement, wings fluttering so hard that Thorn was forced to take a step to the side to avoid being smacked repeatedly.

"They will be glad for the news, and for what it implies." He hesitated for a moment. "I think both are more open to the idea of being citizens of the city, and all that would bring, now."

"Including having a sparkling or two?" Axe perked up with interest.

"Now that they are bonded, and depending on the how the idea is introduced again, there is a chance." Thorn mused. "I am sure that the possibility has never really left Prowl's processor. What Jazz would say of the idea now I don't know."

"Bring it up when the conversation allows," Dai Atlas instructed. "It is not an immediate demand. However it is an expectation of every citizen that is able so they need to contemplate it until it is agreeable to them. I trust that you both intend to keep close to them. They are still technically your noxa until they are citizens."

"Of course. I like them both," Wing assured his carrier.

"As do I, and they have made other friends among the Knights, some they are even willing to refer to a such." Thorn said, making a point of it since it was something that neither would have done when they first arrived.

"Demeter I am aware of," Dai Atlas regarded them.

"Prowl is also quite fond of Atl, Talon, Shogun, Blueflash and Zephyr," Thorn added. "I would hesitate to call any but perhaps Atl his friend, but he seems to enjoy their company for various reasons."

"Jazz has started dancing, well acrobatic something, with Dart," Wing added. "And while he may not call them friends, there is a fondness in field for some of his regular deliveries when he talks about them. He's not quite so paranoid that he feels he must be on guard around everyone. I think both trust Redline as well, after all they have been through."

"Good," Dai Atlas seemed to relax more. "Have they spoken of wanting to be citizens yet? Of any reason they wish to take that step?"

"Not yet, but more independence might push thoughts that way again, along with subtle hints." Thorn explained.

The Sovereign nodded. "Do so as you can. You may tell them they will have separate quarters in the Citadel soon, and with it the credits and duties they are expected to do as payment."

"Thank you." Both Knights nodded respectful as they let themselves out and headed back to Thorn's quarters to deliver the news.

"That went better than expected," Wing said when they were well enough away from the office. "I was sure he wouldn't go for it yet."

"Your creators are fair." Thorn said. "Jazz and Prowl have earned another chance, we think and they agree."

"Fair, but carrier has a temper and a long, long memory for betrayal," Wing murmured, though he knew of it only as stories. "I wasn't sure if he saw their actions as betrayal, or as what it was, code driven madness. I'm glad he saw it for what it was."

Thorn shuddered at the reminder of that fact, and his field gave away his own relief as well. "As am I. Those two deserve better, now that they have the chance for it."

"And they're working so hard for it too," Wing smiled and brightened, throwing off the unpleasantness with a thought as they took off to fly to Thorn's quarters. "I think they'll make amazingly productive and loyal citizens."

"We have to play by their rules a little bit, but I agree." Thorn said. "A little work on our part to keep their energy channeled into something productive though, and we may be amazed at what they end up doing."

"I'd say Jazz is our greatest asset in channeling Prowl," Wing laughed happily. "I know I've heard him grumble about being bored a _lot_ less since they got serious about each other."

Thorn laughed at an aspect he hadn't considered. "Primus made the pair for each other." He declared as they landed. "They're an endless cycle. Jazz is always looking for something new, so his lover is constantly challenged with coming up with ways to please him."

"And just keep track of him," Wing giggled as they landed and walked in. "So, interrupt them when the moaning stops for a bit, or let them wear each other out first?"

"You know full well that when they stop, Jazz'd be in deep recharge and Prowl not that much more with it," Demeter teased them.

"And I'm not going to be the one to interrupt them." Thorn declared. "You can, if you want."

"After the keen, when they're quiet for a bit," Wing shook his helm and relaxed against the wall, waiting for the sounds to shift. "They're pretty easy as long as they're in between rounds."

"Especially when you are delivering good news?" Demeter prodded.

"That always helps," Wing snickered. "So do energon goodies. Just don't open the door when they're merging. Primus, I never saw them move that fast," he shook his helm. "I don't care what Redline said, they're still predators when it comes to protecting each other."

"Scary?" Thorn asked quietly. Listening.

"When you aren't expecting it, yeah," Wing nodded. "They're so polite usually. To have Prowl launch at you, claws out and snarling for opening the door is a bit unsettling."

Thorn had to stop and try to imagine that, shuddering at the image. "I imagine Jazz was right behind him?"

"Only he was silent," Wing nodded. "And _he_ could have done real damage if Prowl hadn't been my warning. I still don't know what he really did in the war, but I know he can kill if he gets close. I saw that much in his face." He shook his helm and wings. "I really should have known better. It was my wrong move first. I knew they were 'facing. I just didn't think they'd merged."

"Which is why you never reported it," Demeter said, not even a guess.

"Yes. They were only protecting the other's spark, and their own," Wing was certain. "It wasn't malice, and they didn't actually touch me."

The other Knights were quiet as they contemplated that. Quiet enough to notice that the noise had died down from the berthroom.

"So do we interrupt now, and knock first?" Thorn asked, already in motion.

"Knock," Wing suggested. "Never a bad idea."

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	16. Citizens of New Crystal City

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**Grasping a Chance 16: Citizens of New Crystal City**  
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Prowl gave another look around the celebration that was in full swing in their quarters, a space that was decidedly too small for the dozen mecha in it, but no one was complaining. The four Knights he was comfortable with, and he knew Redline would be gone in a breem at most. The big medic wasn't there for the party, but like the many other Knights that had dropped by he was there to congratulate the four of them for Jazz and Prowl passing the citizenship test three orns ago and give them a small gift. For Jazz's friends it was more just something that was important to Jazz so they came to congratulate him. For the Knights and Prowl's secretary it was far more. It was the end of a four hundred vorn effort they had all had a knowing hand in on some level, and a cause for celebration even more than the pair's successful bonding.

"Looks like a nice party." Demeter commented as she came up behind Jazz. "Congratulations to both of you."

Jazz looked around the main living area of the quarters that he shared with Prowl and smiled in agreement. Softer music, agreeable to all present, played over the enhanced entertainment system, the latest upgrades a gift from his bonded. And didn't that truth still send a shiver of delight and awe through his spark. Energon, regular and small amount of good high grade, occupied a small table, next to the rapidly vanishing energon goodies that Wing had shown up with as a gift.

Jazz made a note to corner the Knight at some point in time and find out where he had gotten the copper and green ones. Anything that Prowl found so good was worth acquiring again, no matter the effort involved.

"Thank you. It's a good orn for us." He replied softly.

"For all of us," Prowl nodded as his gaze searched our Wing and Thorn to include in the statement. This party was for them in many ways as far as Prowl was concerned. They were the ones who had finally been freed from the responsibility of punishment should either he or Jazz do wrong. "It is a very good orn."

"Yes, for all of us." Jazz agreed as he moved to wrap his bonded in his arms and claim what was for them a very chaste kiss. The way Prowl relaxed into it and the contact was a meltingly warm moment for all who knew Prowl well, and simply sweet for those who only knew Jazz. For Jazz, it was heaven. Prowl would never be as tactile as he was, but the Praxian did love him, deeply enough that he'd learned to enjoy being touched, at least by Jazz.

"May your bond remain strong and the love you share now never fade." Demeter smiled sweetly at them before walking off to socialize with the mecha from the city she knew from many an orn of riding with Jazz.

~We do have good _friends_ here.~ Jazz murmured to his bonded.

~That we do,~ Prowl agreed, even if his understanding of 'friend' was just as hazy as his understanding of 'love'.

Jazz kissed Prowl once more before moving back into the crowd, smiling at Thorn and catching Wing, tweaking the other mech's wing to demand his attention.

"You throw a great party." Wing grinned at him.

"Coming from you I'll take that as high praise." Jazz answered. "Thanks for your contributions. To the party, and everything." He said, knowing that Wing would understand. "And wherever you got those goodies that Prowl keeps snitching, I need to know."

Wing giggled with an even broader smile. "Pekar's Dream." He pinged the coordinates. "Those are the nebula swirls."

"Hard to get?" Jazz pressed.

"Not at all," Wing shook his helm with a knowing smile for Jazz. "They're always there, unlike the jet grade jellies that are my favorite. The only difficult part is that it's on the other side of the city. That's a long drive for you, but I'm willing to pick some up when you want them if your job doesn't take you out there." He cast a fond look at Prowl as another of the bite-sized confections disappeared in a black hand. "If I had a clue he'd like those so much I'd have made a habit of getting them more often. He doesn't like many things enough to over-indulge like that."

"Score." Jazz snickered, and the gleam lighting up his visor hinted that Prowl was going to be indulged often. "I'll find the place, and we'll see how often I'm by it. I might have to take you up on that offer."

"He knows all the confection shops in the city," Axe's deep rumble startled Jazz a touch. "Wing has a sweet denta like few mecha I've known."

"It's true," Wing said unrepentantly.

"Congratulations on your citizenship Jazz," Axe's smile was honest, and the look from Dai Atlas behind him was bordering on fondness. "It was a long path that you both traveled well."

"Thanks to your patience." Jazz acknowledged, knowing who had listened to the arguments for their being allowed to stay, and who had given them a second chance.

Axe's gaze flicked to his mate and his smile became fond as well. "You were a good reminder to a jaded old mech that recovery from war is possible, even for those with deep scars. Perhaps now our young Knight here will feel confident enough to rise to the challenge of becoming a Senior Knight."

Wing ducked his helm. "Maybe. There aren't that many Initiates that I didn't help raise."

"Just need to find your own now, right?" Jazz asked.

Wing nodded. "Taking an Initiate isn't just about training. A mecha and their Daoshi are even closer than we've been with you and Prowl. The pair has to click or it won't go well. I haven't found the right mecha to train yet, but now that you're a citizen, I'll be looking again."

"Good luck." Jazz winked at him. "You will."

"I know," Wing smiled warmly.

"We came by to congratulate you, so we will be on our way now," Dai Atlas said, keenly aware of just how quiet the room had gone at his presence.

"Thank you for coming." Jazz turned and looked up at the pair of mecha that towered over him, sincere as he once would never have been.

"You really do know the Sovereign," an amazed and slightly awed voice came from the side.

"Of course," Jazz said as the large mecha departed. "Everyone who lives in the Citadel does." He smiled a little. "Thought I was telling tales?"

"Pretty much," the mech admitted. "I mean, that's the most powerful mech in the city."

"Aww, he's not that big a deal," Wing snickered.

"Ignore him. Creations never have perspective," Jazz grinned at that dumbfounded look he got.

The other mech just walked away, shaking his helm and talking quietly when he joined up with another guest, still in awe.

"Causing trouble at your own party?" Thorn asked as he joined them for a moment.

"No." Jazz replied, going for an innocent look that didn't quite make it to his field and left the others mechs snickering.

"Jazz never causes trouble," Prowl's voice smoothly joined them, only the amusement in his field giving away that he was teasing.

~I _function_ to cause trouble.~ Jazz purred playfully over the bond as he took his bonded's arm. "Shall we greet the rest of our guests?"

"Of course," Prowl agreed, more than happy to be at his mate's side so the social mech could take the brunt of the socializing. ~I was under the impression that you functioned to 'face me.~

~I exist to please you, protect you, and care for you.~ Jazz replied, none of their private conversation showing on the surface as they worked their way around the small party, Jazz acting as a shield for his mate from all but those they considered friends. ~My spark exists to complete yours, as much as it can.~

~You honor me with your dedication,~ Prowl's warmth and adoration of him showed across the bond, wrapping around Jazz's spark with its honesty. ~You did not have to choose that path, for all I am grateful you did.~ There was a small, mischievous pause. ~Sometimes it does not seem fair that I enjoy the payment for your dedication as much as I do.~

~It makes it all that much better, and you know it.~ Jazz purred, a smirk crossing his face for a moment and making several mech watch them cautiously. ~Wouldn't be half as wonderful if you didn't.~

~Thank you,~ Prowl purred, the bond settling into a warm adoration that flowed both ways while the party continued, eventually ending when Wing left.

"Last one." Jazz said as he engaged the door lock, sighing in satisfaction as he heard the white jet take off down the hall. He turned and surveyed the room, taking stock. For the number of mecha that had come and gone, the mess was surprising mild and could easily be dealt with the next orn. Nothing would suffer from being out of place for one night.

Or not, he sighed mentally as he watched Prowl begin the clean up. Some things would never change, and his bonded's need for order was one of them. Instead of trying to argue he set to helping put things right, moving furniture back to where it belonged and combining various containers of unfinished energon that had been forgotten by type. Three centuries in the city hadn't changed their inability to let energon go to waste.

It took less than a breem to have it all back in order, and then Jazz found himself wrapped in Prowl's arms. "So how about we celebrate our citizenship in a way we both enjoy?"

"I think that sounds like a very nice end to a good orn." Jazz purred, tipping his bonded's helm down to claim a kiss. Black fingers caressed Jazz's sides, teasing at armor seams while Prowl's glossa explored his mouth. Gentle hands explored Prowl's frame in return, smoothing over well polished armor brought to a shine for the party before finding the elegant sensor wings that still captivated Jazz's attention even after all this time.

Prowl's moan rewarded him, as did the way those sensitive appendages pressed into the touch. Slowly Prowl nudged his way under Jazz's jaw to kiss and suck along the myriad of cables and tubes that made up his bonded's throat. "Up against the balcony wall, or in our berthroom?" he trilled seductively as fingers slid over Jazz's spike cover.

"Balcony." Jazz purred, knowing that it would end in the berthroom anyway. "Let the entire city see you possess, and what Primus has given me."

Prowl shuddered at words that resonated with something he could not name, but like so much of what Jazz drew from him, he did not question. Painful crashes and trust in Jazz had written the code that designated such things as beyond his tac-net's authority, much as the Prime's orders had once been. Some things were not his to decipher.

"Yes," Prowl purred against Jazz's throat cabling. His sensor wings pressed harder into the searching hands, relishing the dance and zap of arousal's charge across his circuits.

"Your lead, my love. Whatever, whenever." Jazz whispered, slender, skillful fingers that knew every centimeter of the wings in his touch and played them like a master musician. "I am yours."

"Mine to indulge, to pleasure, to protect," Prowl whispered, gently guiding Jazz to the balcony until Jazz's aft bumped against the railing that had been installed. "Mine to love," he murmured against Jazz's lips before kissing him again.

They were words still sent a shudder through Jazz had him moaning into the kiss. "All of that, yours, please." He whispered between kisses.

Prowl smiled gently and kissed his way down Jazz's chest as he knelt. "Then grip the railing and let me show the city what I do with what is mine."

With one last brush of fingers over sensor wings Jazz obeyed, reaching behind him to grip the rail firmly, optics going dim as his frame shivered under the talented attention of his mate's mouth. He'd long known he had a bit of exhibitionism in him, he liked to perform too much not to, but he'd never been one 'face in public. But here, this, touched parts of that coding. It wasn't that he was being watched. He knew that the odds they'd actually have an audience was very small. It was that the mech he loved so much it hurt wanted to make this display. That his so very private and reserved bonded wanted the entire universe to know that Jazz was taken, claimed and very well cared for was an intense sensation.

You know the drill. Head over to Ao3 for the rest.  
Replace the space with a .  
archiveofourown org/works/631313/chapters/1295995


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